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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28170783">Chewy and Sparkles</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/bitsby/pseuds/bitsby'>bitsby</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Red vs. Blue</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Angst, Fluff, Grimmons RP, Humor, Illustrations, Love, M/M, POV Alternating, Simmons has a tesla, Vampires, Werewolves</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 19:34:34</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>31,091</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28170783</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/bitsby/pseuds/bitsby</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A tale of love between Simmons, a vampire who works at a supernatural tech start up, and Grif, a werewolf who lives in a treehouse and goes to the pet store to buy snacks.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Dexter Grif &amp; Dick Simmons, Dexter Grif/Dick Simmons</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>45</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>26</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Nicknames That Won't Stick</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This fic is a log of roleplay between myself as Simmons and my good buddy who writes Grif's POV, as well as other guest writers for additional characters throughout the series. I've never posted RP (unless you happen to see any fics from AO3 user CPT_Simmons...), but this one we've held dearly to our hearts and really wanted to share it with other Grimmons fans. There's about 50k written out at the moment, and I'll be editing/releasing a new chapter every weekend until we're caught up (so a couple months of this at the least!). Hope you enjoy the ride in Simmons' tesla with us as we update Chewy and Sparkles. :^)</p><p>Note: Messages are separated via === to start Grif's, and --- for Simmons.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>=====</p><p> </p><p><em>The forest was quiet. Too quiet. The only sounds to be heard were the occasional calls from birds and the faint cracks and creaks of small animals traveling across the forest floor and through the towering trees. It was late afternoon, the sky was already dark. Just the time that the wolf preferred to hunt.</em> [end dramatic introduction]</p><p>Grif, a very unusually large wolf, trotted through the bushes and trees, his sniffer sniffing in order to detect yummy sniffs. The yummy sniffs, unfortunately, seemed to be in hiding. Instead, there was this strange, dead smell nearby that he couldn't figure out. It didn't smell like dead animal, which he'd usually take advantage of so he wouldn't have to hunt. It just smelled like death. It's hard to describe, okay? Imagine nothing, but it smells like really strong nothing. <em>Not better? Sorry.</em></p><p>He continued to track this smell, keeping an eye out for any kind of prey on the way. He was still hungry, his stomach kept reminding him every ten seconds with a growl way too similar to his real one.</p><p> </p><p>-----</p><p> </p><p>Well, <em>shit</em>.</p><p>Another hunt, completely bust. After four straight nights in a row with no easy -- or any -- targets in sight, Simmons' concerns about <em>something</em> in his usual hunting grounds seemed to be true. It was always riskier going into town to feed on some drunk dude at a night club, but at least that was cleaner than gutting a random warthog in the forest. Still, the latter was the best decision overall, objectively speaking. And intoxicated blood always made him a little dizzy. <strike>No, he wasn't a lightweight, shut up.</strike></p><p>He should probably get back to the main path. Sighing quietly, he carefully avoided the more brittle twigs covering the forest floor, ensuring that whoever or whatever was in the area wouldn't be alerted by his presence.</p><p>
  <em>Snap.</em>
</p><p>... Well, <strong>shit</strong>.</p><p> </p><p>=====</p><p>
  
</p><p>Grif stopped in his tracks suddenly at the quiet yet alarming sound of the snap of a twig. His ears perked up and he turned his large head in the direction of the noise.</p><p>
  <em>Sniff sniff.</em>
</p><p>Dead smell.</p><p>Ducking his head down low, he continued on slowly, following the sound and the smell. Just purely out of curiosity, because maybe it was actually food. Really, really dead food. He came to a complete stop when he grew close enough, peering over bushes and branches. He saw- ... huh. A random guy. Surely he wasn't...</p><p>... No, definitely. He was definitely the source of the smell. He grumbled a little, taking a few steps back. He didn't have time to deal with weird smelling humans. He just wanted some dinner.</p><p> </p><p>-----</p><p>
  
</p><p>It's fine. It's totally fine. Simmons is fine! A deep inhale to calm himself, and- ugh, what was that smell? It was like a wet dog mixed with... Oreos? <strike>The fuck, dog?</strike></p><p>Now even more keen on his surroundings, he squinted through the foliage as he upped his pace back to his den. His den, which was a nice flat in the city considering he worked at a pretty nice tech start up as his blending-into-society day job. Thank God he was more recently-turned and didn't have to deal with an <em>actual</em> vampire den. Gross.</p><p>He froze in an awkward mid-step, when he caught two glinting eyes in the distance backing away. Holy shit, this wolf was <em>way</em> bigger than he's seen around these parts. And they definitely just locked eyes. Fuck.</p><p> </p><p>=====</p><p>
  
</p><p>Wait, that wasn't a normal person, was it?</p><p>Grif continued to step back, his ears flat on his head, until the guy stopped abruptly and stared directly at him. He froze as well.</p><p>...What now? He didn't feel like he could run. Were they both just stuck here forever? Maybe he should act like a normal wolf- wait, no, that's probably a bad idea. Right? Or- maybe not? Depends if he was guessing right. Uh, shit.</p><p>He gradually rose back up to his normal height, eyes locked on the guy still. Didn't do anything else for now.</p><p> </p><p>-----</p><p>
  
</p><p>Okay, maybe he's still fine. This beast of a wolf seemed intelligent. Well, he probably shouldn't give it too much credit; animals were generally more sensitive to sensing the danger of such a powerful supernatural being such as himself. He smirked a bit at the thought-</p><p>... Damnit, why the fuck did his stupid pheromones always have to give off when he made comments like that? Sparkling bullshit...</p><p>Anyway. The smell coming from this thing was different. It... couldn't be a...</p><p>The more he honed his senses, the more assured he was. Man, lycans were always such a bitch to deal with (pun intended). But this one seemed in its place to not mess with <em>him</em>. <strike>... Goddamnit fucking sparkle- STOP.</strike></p><p>He kept eye contact as he started moving again, walking backwards as he slowly made his way home.</p><p> </p><p>=====</p><p>
  
</p><p>He didn't drop the eye contact either, even as the guy was getting farther and farther away. Once he was out of sight, Grif was left feeling a little weirded out, but eventually, he shook it off to continue looking for some food. Unfortunately, it was starting to get tiring looking for so long. But he had to admit that while like this, he was slightly less picky (compared to a human, who didn't really tend to tear raw meat from the bones of random animals in the forest), so he might as well spend it looking for something to eat. Like this, he didn't care what animal it was, whether it was cooked or not. Easy meals. Just had to catch them. Or, y'know, steal them.</p><p>What a weird night.</p><p> </p><p>-----</p><p>
  
</p><p>Seriously, man! Was he <em>really</em> going to have to go down to the Donut Hole tonight to feed? It was the most reliable and least suspicious way to go about the whole thing, but God, he hated flirting. Not because he wasn't good at it! It was just, uh, more trouble than it was worth with some of the really pushy regulars, and he just had a low social battery, and- wait. He didn't need to make excuses for himself.</p><p>It was the next evening, and another evening of dismal hunting. Was that weredouche still around and scaring off all the food? As Simmons pushed aside branches along his usual route, a familiar scent wafted by. <em>Yup, definitely still around.</em></p><p>His annoyance overtook his common sense to <em>not</em> go looking for a massive werewolf in hunting form, hastily stomping through the brush towards the stinky, mangey smell to give that asshole a piece of his mind.</p><p> </p><p>=====</p><p>
  
</p><p>Grif, as a consequence of scaring off the food, hadn't had much luck this time either. He had stopped for a moment, sitting by a tree to give his ear a good scratch. However, his leg gradually slowed down before dropping to the ground when he smelled -- and heard -- the same guy from yesterday.</p><p>
  <em>Not being very quiet tonight, huh?</em>
</p><p>... Actually, he was heading right towards him-</p><p>The wolf stood up, stretched, then peered down the direction he could hear and smell this guy coming from. He decided just to wait. See what happens. Maybe he'd fuck with this guy, sit directly in the path he was going down. He did just that, then waited.</p><p> </p><p>-----</p><p>
  
</p><p>... <em>'And there's a perfectly fine hunting ground nearby, asshole, I can show you how to get there if-'</em> ... Ugh, no, that's probably too helpful. Wait, why was he worrying about that? Simmons just wanted that mutt out of here so he could have <em>his</em> forest back.</p><p>Oh. Uh. He was just... sitting there? Was he waiting for him? Was he trying to intimidate him? Well, he wasn't trying to attack him right away, so that's a relief.</p><p>Keeping his chin tilted up, the vampire resumed his pompous and confident stomps directly towards him until they squared off, a few feet away from each other.</p><p>"Hey, uh. You should, um..." he awkwardly coughed. "I'm trying to hunt, here, and I'm pretty sure, uh..."</p><p>... So much for confidence.</p><p> </p><p>=====</p><p> </p><p>Trying to hunt? Seriously? The fuck was this guy hunting with? And was he literally trying to kick him out of the forest? Did he think he owns it?</p><p>Grif blinked slowly at him, tilting his head to the side, playing dumb. He seemed easy to rile up.</p><p><em>You don't own this place, dickhead. I'll hunt here if I want.</em> He thought smugly, even though the other guy couldn't hear him.</p><p>After a few moments he stood up and trotted closer, standing tall at around shoulder height on all four paws. Very tall wolf. He was literally just sniffing the guy now. Mostly to annoy him. Or maybe freak him out. Wow, this smell was really fucking weird. He'd never smelled it before, so he couldn't exactly figure out what was going on here.</p><p> </p><p>-----</p><p>
  
</p><p>Oh, <em>really</em>? He might not speak in whatever weird mindreading bullshit weres used to communicate, but that head tilt set Simmons off for some reason-</p><p>Uh, shit. He seized up as the large-statured wolf got up in his face, examining him everywhere with his snout. The action seemed to be another power play, asserting dominance, which just pissed Simmons off more... Or maybe he enjoyed his scent and couldn't resist? He <em>did</em> start to use a new hair product that the bar owner recommended- Oh my <em>God</em>, snap out of it!</p><p>"Yeah, soooo... could you... stop doing that? I know I smell good, but you're freaking me out a bit," he scoffed, unable to contain his pheromones. <em>Damnit.</em> Still, he couldn't find the ability to move any part of his body as he was <strike>Grif-</strike>sniffed all over.</p><p> </p><p>=====</p><p>
  
</p><p>Grif let out an amused wolf snort, stepping back and trotting in a slow circle around Simmons instead, as if judging him. Along with the dead smell now, he could smell something else was going on. And why did this guy seem really sparkly?</p><p>
  <em>Smell good? Yeah, right. You smell like an old animal that bathed in spoiled milk and died in the sun, while also smelling like nothingness at the same time. The fuck, dog?</em>
</p><p>This guy also seemed real full of himself, and Grif found it pretty sad that he could tell already. How embarrassing.</p><p>After doing a full circle, he sat back down where he was before. Immoveable. Suck it, weird guy. He wasn't goin' anywhere.</p><p> </p><p>-----</p><p>
  
</p><p>The small sigh of relief lowered his anxiety caused by having his personal bubble invaded, and definitely not because of fear from being possibly mauled by a creature the size of a car. Not that that was an actual fear, because this wolf seemed pretty... chill? Maybe he wasn't hungry? No, probably not. Who would pass up on such a tasty snacc?</p><p>Anyway, who did this guy think he was, circling him like some sort of prey? Did he think he owned <em>his</em> forest, or something? And obviously, he was too stubborn to leave. And too big to move forcibly. And... could probably actually maul him, if he didn't seem so lazy. Yeah, this was a problem. But if there's anything Dick Simmons could do, it was solve a problem... even if that problem was about 10 times his size and extremely hairy.</p><p>"... Whatever," he huffed, placing his hands on his hips. For now, though, he'd leave that problem to future Simmons. He threw a final glare at the werewolf before decidedly stomping away.</p><p> </p><p>=====</p><p> </p><p>Grif could see the guy, who he would now name Sparkles, getting riled up already. He didn't even have to say anything for it to be obvious. He was radiating annoyance.</p><p>... Aaaand giving up.</p><p>
  <em>Too fucking easy.</em>
</p><p>Grif let out a loud, throaty snorting noise that was supposed to be a laugh as he watched Sparkles saunter off like he'd just accomplished something here. This guy was gonna be fun to mess with, Grif could tell.</p><p>Well, if he ended up coming back.</p><p>It’s not like Grif wanted him coming back.</p><p>Uh. Anyway. Like yesterday, Grif waited until Sparkles was out of sight before wandering off himself, except much less cocky and full of himself.</p><p> </p><p>-----</p><p>
  
</p><p>Simmons didn't even bother looking around for prey the next evening, already accustomed to the strange canine and Oreo smell enough to know he was lazing about his forest again. Plus, he wasn't here to hunt. If he had the blood to blush this evening, he'd probably turn the faintest bit of pink as he adjusted the small lunch satchel he carried over his shoulder.</p><p><em>Man, this was so stupid.</em> But, logically speaking, a peace offering seemed to be the most reasonable choice. He just hoped this wasn't going to end up being a stray cat situation where he was <em>expected</em> to bring the lone wolf food every day to get him out of the way. Or even worse, follow him home. Ugh.</p><p>He sheepishly shuffled towards the now-familiar scent. Lo and behold, there was the werewolf, lazing about as expected. Simmons paused, glancing at him before sitting down against a nearby tree and opening up the pack of food without saying a word.</p><p> </p><p>=====</p><p>
  
</p><p>As Grif went out for his regular evening hunt, he was barely thinking about the food. Actually, that's a lie. He was thinking about food a lot, all the time, but along with food he was also thinking about Sparkles, wondering if he would come back to try again. When the dead smell met his nose, he could confirm that Sparkles had made another appearance.</p><p>Not worried whatsoever, Grif decided to lay down on his side this time, looking completely careless when Sparkles actually showed up.</p><p>Grif twisted around slightly to be able to look at Sparkles, and watched him sit down with... food. Curious, he waited. Sparkles didn't eat the food. The large wolf rolled onto his belly. Kept watching. Sparkles still didn't eat the food. Grif stood up, tilting his head as he stepped forward a little.</p><p>No way... was Sparkles really giving him...?</p><p> </p><p>-----</p><p>
  
</p><p>Yeah, he was grateful he couldn't feel a blush coming on, he thought as his hairy friend warily approached. Wait, <em>friend</em>? Pfft. This guy was a <em>pest</em>, one that kept clearly messing with him on purpose at this point.</p><p>... But he must be hungry, if he had also been hunting all of the same nights Simmons had for the past week with no reward. Unless the animals were missing because this fatass ate everything in the forest. It's not like he felt bad for him, though! This was just a peace offering, he reminded himself with a nod. Right.</p><p>He took out the container holding a few slices of pizza; leftovers from when he experimented with a new recipe the other night. Not his greatest work, but it still turned out pretty damn good. And doubtful this dog would really mind a B+ pizza on his self-rated ranking.</p><p>Extending his arm a bit, his eyes glinted at the werewolf with the tiniest bit of warmth as he made the offering more obvious.</p><p> </p><p>=====</p><p>
  
</p><p>Holy <em>shit!</em> Sparkles just made and brought him pizza! He knew the smell of homemade anywhere.</p><p>He couldn't stop his tail from wagging as he hurried over, not even hesitating to stuff his huge snout into the container to start <strike>literally</strike> wolfing down the slices of pizza. He ended up knocking the container out of Sparkles' hand as he ate, making the pizza fall out of it and on to the ground. But it was fine, because it was gobbled up in seconds.</p><p>With the pizza being finished, Grif plopped his furry butt on the ground and stared at Simmons, licking his chops free of sauce. He looked expectant. He whined and scooted just centimetres closer.</p><p> </p><p>-----</p><p> </p><p>Simmons jerked his hand back as the container flew out of it. Ugh, werewolves were so gross. He shook the slobber that coated his hand in disgust, a smile creeped onto his face as he watched the pizza get devoured. While the wolf's head lowered to gobble a slice that had fallen to the floor, he found his hand moving towards the massive, fluffy ears. He swiftly pulled it back the instant he realized what he was about to do, a centimetre away from petting them. God, how embarrassing-</p><p>Regaining his composure, Simmons met the expectant eyes with a raised brow. The food was all gone. What, did he expect him to leave and bring back more? As he continued his unimpressed stare, he took the time to study the furry beast more closely. Man, he was huge. And probably soft, if he cleaned up his mangey fur. He didn't know that werewolves were capable of puppy dog eyes until now, either. It was objectively pretty cute.</p><p>... Ignoring that last thought, he sat there for a bit in silence, giving what he thought was a judging stare. But it might not have looked that way to his new food disposal source.</p><p>What a strange night.</p><p> </p><p>=====</p><p>
  
</p><p>Grif continued this staring contest for a while (that Sparkles definitely lost because he was totally staring at his fur or ears or whatever and not his face) before giving up, flopping onto his side again- the only difference being he was now directly in front of Sparkles, who he still had no concerns about. When he hit the ground with a solid <em>thud</em> he let out a loud huff with it. Hopefully Sparkles would bring more food tomorrow. For now, the pizza would do.</p><p>After more long moments had passed, though, it proved that just the pizza would not do. He shifted closer to the abandoned container to stuff his nose inside for a second time, licking any remaining sauce, since that was the best he was going to get after that pizza.</p><p>What a great night!</p><p> </p><p>-----</p><p>
  
</p><p>Simmons snorted in amusement at the domestic display in front of him. Funny that he was even remotely worried about this idiot being some sort of threat. Well, he was a threat to his hunting grounds. Hopefully this will help stave him off for the time being, even though it's probable that he could eat about twenty pizzas and still be hungry.</p><p>Still, he couldn't help but feel the pride fill his chest at someone finally trying and liking his cooking. Not that this desperately hungry dog would know the difference between awesome home-cooking and shitty takeout. But. Still.</p><p>In a burst of self-satisfaction, he reached forward and ruffled the fur behind the furry ears that bounced while finishing off the container sauce.</p><p>Oh. <em>God, how embarrassing-</em></p><p> </p><p>=====</p><p>
  
</p><p>Grif stilled for a second when he felt a hand ruffle his fur. Was Sparkles petting him? He was not used to people <em>petting</em> him. He wasn't even around people like this. A growl began to build up in his throat, but it quickly died out before it could even become anything. For some reason, he didn't really find himself caring that much. It actually felt nice. Uh, not like he was gonna be admitting that somehow anytime soon, though. It was the wolf stuff. How could he not enjoy it while being a dog?</p><p>He soon pulled his head away from the container, maybe staring at Sparkles for a few seconds longer than necessary before letting his head rest on the ground.</p><p>Man, what was up with this guy? He approaches him all pissed off and mad for no reason, then comes back the next day with free food and scratches behind the ears? Talk about mixed signals. Whatever, Grif wasn't going to complain about free food and scratches behind the ears. Maybe Sparkles would bring more pizza next time.</p><p> </p><p>-----</p><p> </p><p>Simmons was thankful that his arm wasn't bit off or something in that moment. In fact, it almost seemed like the werewolf <em>enjoyed</em> it. What a weirdo.</p><p>
  <em>Yeah, he's the weirdo, not you. Right, Dick.</em>
</p><p>He pulled his hand back to scratch behind his own head awkwardly. Given this interaction, it was likely that this werewolf was getting a little too comfortable in his forest, so he'd also likely be seeing him again. Simmons obviously didn't think this through entirely. Shit.</p><p>Well, maybe he could mess with him a bit if this was the case, to help get him annoyed enough to leave. Surely, giving him a nickname would do this and not form any sort of attachment. Even though the fur was almost calico-like in color, it still had more brownish-orange than anything. And he was very, <em>very</em> tall. It kind of reminded him of...</p><p>"Don't expect this every day, <em>Chewy</em>." He snickered at himself, retrieving the container and standing up. Yeah, <em>definitely</em> won't get attached to a name from one of his favorite sci-fi series.</p><p> </p><p>=====</p><p>
  
</p><p>Grif let out a disgruntled snort, frowning up at Sparkles at the dumb nickname. <em>Did he really just call him fucking Chewbacca? Seriously?</em> He almost wished he could talk right now to tell him how dumb that was. And nerdy.</p><p>He twisted himself around again to watch Sparkles stand up, as this was definitely the time he'd be leaving. Sparkles said something about not expecting this every day, but considering these past three days, Grif was pretty confident in betting that Sparkles would come back soon, if not tomorrow. And he was definitely considering biting his arm off for giving him that nickname. At least 'Sparkles' wasn't nerdy beyond belief, and actually made sense. Whatever.</p><p>He didn't bother moving from his spot on the ground. He'd eaten, he could take some time to relax. It's not like anything would bother him, anyway. All he did was let out another wolfy noise as Sparkles got ready to leave, probably some kind of goodbye.</p><p> </p><p>-----</p><p> </p><p>Simmons grinned widely at the clear indignation in... <em>Chewy's</em> vocalization. Haha, suck it, stupid wolf.</p><p>He patted off the bark and moss that had gotten stuck to his pants as he stood, lifting his head at the short wolfy noise Chewy made.</p><p>"... See you." Simmons accompanied his response with an awkward wave, cringing at himself immediately after. He turned heel, empty slobbery container in hand, and left for the evening again. This was almost becoming a pattern. But possibly looking forward to seeing Chewy -- just to mess with him so he'd leave -- was a new and intrusive thought.</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Woohoo!!! After a literal year hiatus of posting anything on here, I'm very excited to be back! I got very caught up in prioritizing the art/music side of the fandom, as well as running the BaseBook Discord server- but writing was my entry into the fandom, so it's giving me all sorts of nice memories and feelings coming back to this medium of content creation after so long. Anywho, hope you enjoy this RP! We have LITERALLY been living and breathing it for the past couple of months- really ecstatic to be getting it out into the world and share with everyone. And we have some art we've done for this as well, so I'll add links when the time comes! Thank you so much for reading!!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. No One is Catching Feelings</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>=====</p><p> </p><p>Grif was a very common customer at this store. This store being a pet store, where he often purchased dog treats. No, not for his dog. He had no dog. Just for himself. But other people didn't know that. If anyone even cared in the first place, all they could guess is that Grif just loves to buy a lot of treats for his dog- what a caring owner, right?</p><p>Right now, he was not a wolf. He was a very <strike>hairy</strike> shabby and average looking guy, wearing stained clothes that probably hadn't been washed in a while, and scratching his stubble as he pondered what treats to buy. He had favorites, but he was tempted to try some new ones. It was hard deciding with a human palette. Most of this shit would be disgusting to people. At least Grif had a great way of testing them out.</p><p>He gathered a couple packs of treats in his arms when he turned to shuffle down to the rest of the snacks and saw someone familiar. Oh, it-</p><p>"Sparkles?"</p><p>... <em>It just slipped out, okay?</em></p><p>Realization dawned on him that he’d just said that out loud. Grif quickly shut his mouth with an audible <em>clack</em> and turned back around to pretend he never said anything, but he was afraid it was too late. Oh, wow, how interesting the treats were suddenly... wait, what the fuck was Sparkles doing here-</p><p> </p><p>-----</p><p> </p><p>Simmons jumped, hiding the box of pepperoni-flavored dog treats behind his back. Being at a pet store buying dog treats shouldn't be a nerve-wracking experience, but it's not like he had a dog, so the embarrassment was definitely a projection that he'd rather not admit. At least he spent his time on the drive over fabricating and rehearsing his make-believe pet's life story, just in case someone happened to make small talk.</p><p>"E-excuse me?" he asked, turning towards the voice down the aisle. He was too surprised to really comprehend what was called out to him, since it couldn't possibly have been 'sparkles' like he thought he heard.</p><p>His nose wrinkled a bit after seeing the frankly bum-like looking man standing before him. He kind of smelled like... dogs. And a familiar-smelling junk food. Guess that makes sense considering he probably had several dogs, with so many boxes of dog treats stuffed under his arms.</p><p> </p><p>=====</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>Shit. Fuck. Motherfucker.</em>
</p><p>Act innocent. Sparkles might buy it. If Sparkles wasn't too smart.</p><p>Grif slowly turned back around, staring at Sparkles while wearing an expression which he hoped seemed like confusion. He also purposely ignored the fact he could <em>see</em> Sparkles' nose wrinkled at him. Fuck, dude, why was it so weird and <em>intimidating</em> just looking at Sparkles while he wasn't a wolf? Actually, no, Grif didn't <em>care</em>, Sparkles wasn't anything. No. Did not matter. The majority of the time, Grif was a human; he should not feel weird meeting someone while he's a human. Nuh-uh.</p><p>"Huh? Me?" he glanced around as if looking to see if there were other people to make extra sure he was getting away with it. Hopefully Sparkles wasn't a good detective. "What you want?"</p><p>Please be grossed out enough to leave. <strike>Don't.</strike></p><p> </p><p>-----</p><p> </p><p>"Well, yeah, you're the one who-" Wait, why was this guy acting like he didn't just call out to him? Ugh. <em>Shit,</em> why'd he open his mouth? He could have avoided talking to him altogether. What would a perfectly normal person perusing a pet store say to a fellow human?</p><p>He wasn't about to admit to himself that he was buying dog treats for Chewy. It simply made more sense than making another entire pizza for him, and he usually portioned everything out enough to not have leftovers, so this was the most logical decision and not some roundabout thought process- ... yeah, okay, buying these specifically for Chewy was exactly what he was doing. Damnit... Wonder what Chewy would think, if he knew he was essentially treating him like his pet in this moment. He didn't wonder for very long. Too mortifying.</p><p>"It's, um, well, I'm kind of new to being a dog owner," he mumbled, adjusting his glasses with his free hand. "I heard it's not great giving dogs 'people food', but Chewy seemed to like pizza, and this seemed to be the closest one-" He rambled while timidly presenting the large box of Pupperoni.</p><p>"You seem to be... familiar with dogs." He nodded at the numerous treats the other man held. "Do you have any recommendations...?"</p><p>Even though his ears could barely redden, the embarrassment emanating from him would have been palpable to anyone that saw his pale features. But, that all sounded natural and like he totally owned a dog, right? He hoped his awkward, friendly smile helped him sound more convincing.</p><p> </p><p>=====</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Holy. Fucking. Shit.</em>
</p><p>Sparkles was here, at the pet store, buying <em>him</em> dog treats. He almost couldn't push down the smug grin that was appearing on his face. The pet owner thing wasn't exactly great, but he couldn't blame Sparkles for having a fake alibi. Would he just go around telling people he's buying treats for a werewolf? ... If he knew. It seemed like he did, considering how much he talked to Grif. And it’s not like Grif was a normal sized wolf... Did Sparkles know? If he didn't, he sure is a weirdo for wanting to sit down and talk with an oversized wild wolf.</p><p>Grif forgot to talk for a few moments. <em>Snap out of it, asshole.</em></p><p>"Uhhhhh." <em>Intelligent!</em> "Yyyeah, yeah, sure." He'll just recommend all his favorites. Man, this was great. Thank you, Sparkles, so so much.</p><p>He gestured to a quite few packs, all either jerky or some kind of meat-flavored treat. "<em>Chewy</em> would probably like these. Anything meaty, really, but dogs <em>love</em> these ones." He actually bothered to grab a few and toss each one at Sparkles, not really caring if he caught them or not.</p><p>"Aaaaaand, these. Some good ol' doggy biscuits." He grabbed a box of bone-shaped treats and chucked it at Sparkles. It seemed stereotypical, in a way, but they really were good. "Chewy would definitely like the Pupperoni, too. Oh, and dogs <em>definitely</em> like Oreos, you should get some for Chewy. And if he likes pizza so much, definitely more pizza."</p><p>Once he stepped back, finished giving very good dog treat advice, he looked over Sparkles just once. Wow, he was just radiating awkwardness. Not only could Grif literally feel it, but Sparkles' posture and body language were extremely awkward. Dude did not look casual buying dog treats. It wasn't like it was a nerve-wracking experience, honestly.</p><p> </p><p>-----</p><p> </p><p>Simmons nearly fumbled each bag and box tossed at him by this pudgy, messy dude. He wasn't expecting to clear out this aisle's selection and buy this much when he walked in here, but considering how large Chewy was, he'd probably get through most of it pretty quickly. He definitely wasn't intent on spoiling Chewy, though.</p><p>
  <em>... Maybe I should pick up some Oreos at the grocery store down the street on my way back...</em>
</p><p>He caught himself releasing a soft, amused laugh as he grabbed the bone-shaped treats out of the air. This guy must <em>really</em> love his dogs; it was pretty warming how eagerly everything was being thrown to him, and suggested with that excited drawl, and that charming smirk that tugged at his lips, and-</p><p><em>Jesus, Dick, pull yourself together. You literally just met this- this mangey dog man.</em> He even looked like a dog with how stubbly and hairy he was. Not that it was a bad look for him. Funny, the few guys he found himself attracted to were always shorter than him, not that they were hard to find considering his own height, it's just that- <em>Oh my God, seriously, what's with you today?</em></p><p>Simmons shook his head, hoping the thoughts would shake out as well. How lame was he for losing his cool in front of some random guy, yet being completely confident in front of a fucking werewolf? He swallowed, regaining his composure effectively enough to give a self-assured and <em>sparkly</em> (ugh) grin.</p><p>"Uh, thanks, man. This is really helpful." Ugh. Stupid glitter bullshit. Good thing humans didn't really pick up on it.</p><p> </p><p>=====</p><p> </p><p>The werewolf waited patiently for Sparkles to gather himself. Man, watching this guy was interesting. And also amusing. Right now, he was glad for having canine instincts, because he could read this guy like a book. And, he was pretty attractive in his own nerdy wa- <em>Wait. No. Stop it.</em></p><p>Grif, while grinning almost wolfishly and managing to make it look more excited yet casual rather than just outright insane and wild, nodded.</p><p>"No problem, dude. 'M sure Chewy will dig those treats. All dogs do." he said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.</p><p>While looking at Sparkles again, he noticed the sparkling which he nicknamed this strange, awkward guy after. Along with the sparkles, he could smell something new and... feel it, too. Really weird. This and the smell was why Grif wasn't so sure if Sparkles was a human. Like, come on- what kind of human sparkled and smelled like death? If he wasn't actually enjoying seeing Sparkles a little, he'd be far away, making sure he never smelled-</p><p>Wait- he didn't enjoy seeing Sparkles. No, he didn't. He just didn't. Obviously, the only reason he was sticking around was because he was being fed. End of discussion.</p><p> </p><p>-----</p><p> </p><p>Simmons adjusted his glasses again- a nervous habit he picked when he realized he didn't actually <em>need</em> them anymore. But he kept them, since they framed and accentuated his lanky face nicely. And, when he took them off to go out and hunt, it kind of made him feel like some supernatural Clark Kent. Definitely cool and not nerdy! Haha...</p><p>Avoiding cringing at himself yet again, the vamp made his leave with the same short and awkward wave he gave Chewy the other night, causing himself to actually cringe.</p><p>"Right, well, take care." He faltered, not moving right away. He was apparently drawn to the other man enough to ask, "Um... what's your name?"</p><p>Jeez, what was he thinking? Even though it was <em>possible</em> (not <em>likely</em>) that he would come back and buy more treats later, what were the chances that he would run into him again? Or that he’d want to even talk to about something not dog-related? And even if he did, there was literally no need to make acquaintances with this scruffy, cute guy, or think about asking to hang out after barely talking, or- wait, <em>what</em>?</p><p>... Man, he was hopeless sometimes. Sigh.</p><p> </p><p>=====</p><p> </p><p>Watching Sparkles readjust his glasses, offer him that same awkward wave, and proceeding to not move at all made Grif's grin grow a little, one eyebrow raised. His cheeks were starting to hurt already. Jeez, he hadn't smiled this much in a long time. This was a dangerous game- was Grif getting attached?</p><p>"Grif," he answered with a lazy drawl, leaning to the side and shifting the packs of treats in his arms that he was considering not purchasing anymore. Looked like he was finally going to learn Sparkles' real name, but Grif didn't think he'd be able to completely shake the nickname. "What's yours?"</p><p>It was probably something like fucking <em>Bartholomew.</em> Sparkles looked like some rich, pretentious kid, with his clean-pressed dress shirt and slacks and just the whole <em>look</em>. Especially pretentious. Bartholomew was a pretentious name. <em>Oh, father, may I please go play with the poor kids? I will beat them surely, father, surely.</em> It was accurate. Totally. Bartholomew, hands down.</p><p>... Actually, he hoped it wasn't. What a fucking name. He didn't want to be catching feelings for some guy named <em>Bartholomew</em>. Wait- no, he wasn't even catching feelings, so it didn't matter.</p><p> </p><p>-----</p><p> </p><p>Grif? Kind of a weird name, but it was fitting, somehow.</p><p>"Simmons." He shuffled all of the treats under one arm so he could extend the other for a handshake. He matched Grif's grin as he- oh, oh. He's grinning <em>at</em> him. What a nice view.</p><p>
  <em>... Ugh, okay. Can't believe I'm catching feelings so quickly, for such a scruffy looking dude, at a fucking pet store. Guess it's probably better than someone at the Donut Hole, though. Probably.</em>
</p><p>Too bad he didn't <em>actually</em> have a dog, so he could make the excuse of meeting up at a park with all of Grif's dogs. Maybe he could convince Chewy to come with him or something, didn't people do that? Pick up a love interest with their cute and ridiculously gigantic pet werewolf? Uh- it's not like Simmons was <em>that</em> desperate to hang out with him. But, nonetheless, he self-admittedly hoped to run into Grif again sooner rather than later.</p><p> </p><p>=====</p><p> </p><p>Phew. Not Bartholomew. Simmons was at least a name he had heard before. Not in person, but he swore there were a couple famous people with that name or some shit.</p><p>Grif reached over to grab Sparkles- no, <em>Simmons'</em> cold, slender hand with his own large, warm one, half-assed shaking it for a few seconds. Anddd maybe he gripped it just one second too long before letting go.</p><p>Unlike Simmons, he wasn't too concerned about whenever he would see the other man next. He was fairly confident that he'd be seeing Simmons a <em>lot</em>, considering the amount of dog treats that just got purchased for him. Now he was actually excited for later, and he wasn't usually excited by many things other than just food alone. Although, this time it wasn't <em>just</em> the food...</p><p>"Nice to meet you, I guess? Uh, see you 'round sometime."</p><p>He'd just given Simmons the implication that he wanted to see him more. As a human. This meant talking to Simmons more. He'd just have to come back here more often- go out more often, try to catch Simmons so he could <em>actually</em> talk to him. Sure, he'd most likely be seeing Simmons every night, but he couldn't do much talking as a wolf. It wasn't often he was motivated to actually do something, either, so Simmons-not-Bartholomew-Sparkles better feel damn special.</p><p> </p><p>-----</p><p> </p><p>"Yeah, same! Uh- see you." <em>Wow</em>. Very inconspicuous recovery in sounding completely smitten about it. Even though he was reluctant to let go of the much larger hand that filled his own with more warmth than he'd felt in a while, Simmons' smile couldn't help but widen. Grif <em>totally</em> said that like he wanted to see him again. No- stop reading into shit. That's a perfectly normal response to meeting someone. But, still...</p><p>Damn, good thing Grif couldn't see how many stupid sparkles he was probably emitting. How annoying.</p><p>Simmons walked over to the register to pay for all of his goods, beaming the whole way. As each treat beeped through the scanner, he was grateful that Chewy wasn't witness to any of this. Not like he cared what that stinky mutt thought! He just, uh, wanted him out of his forest. And this was clearly the best way to go about that. Yeah. Definitely no denial here.</p><p>He glanced back one final time at where Grif stood in the aisle as he left the shop, with a bounce in his step that he didn’t quite remember having before.</p><p> </p><p>=====</p><p> </p><p>Damn, Simmons really did sparkle a lot. Maybe he really was just a weird guy who bathed in glitter. Either way, Grif couldn't stop staring until Simmons walked off to the register. Grif went back to looking at dog treats, but he wasn't actually interested in them anymore. He'd just gotten double the amount he'd usually get with Simmons' additions. He just didn't want to head over to the register while Simmons was still there right after they'd said goodbye. How awkward.</p><p>So, that was why he kept peering over in the direction of said register, then over in the direction of the door, then he was gone with one last glance directed at Grif.</p><p>Holy shit. He was not feeling like this right now. No way. Pathetic. Snap out of it, Grif.</p><p>Running a hand down his face and sighing, he shuffled his way over to the register next. He tried shoving the smile off his face, but it kept persisting and spreading across his cheeks every few seconds.</p><p>Shit. He really was feeling like this right now. He could just imagine his tail if he'd been a wolf at this time. Pathetic.</p><p> </p><p>-----</p><p> </p><p>Rather than a satchel like last time, this evening Simmons brought his hiking backpack. It never got much use, anyway, and it was the only thing large enough to hold four boxes of dog treats and a package of Oreos. He also may have brought an ice pack with some hot dogs, just to have something with a little more sustenance.</p><p>He ignored the light bounce in his strut that seemed to persist ever since his visit at the pet store earlier that day, making his way toward that wet-dog smell he was now so accustomed to. Maybe he can convince Chewy to let him clean him up a little bit, so he didn't have such a strong were-odor.</p><p>He plopped down at the same spot, at the same tree as before, unzipping his pack. Simmons took out an Oreo and started munching on it, waiting for Chewy to appear.</p><p> </p><p>=====</p><p> </p><p>As soon as Grif had transformed that evening, he'd trotted directly into the trees to eagerly make his way towards the usual spot he encountered Simmons. Usually, he did not move with haste; he preferred to slowly shuffle along, but at least as a wolf he felt a little more capable of moving around. And again, he was motivated for once.</p><p>This time he also had a tail to wag, and it was wagging the entire way there, and still didn't stop when he arrived.</p><p>Simmons was already sitting there, and Grif had been able to smell the treats from ages away. The treats definitely weren't the only things making his tail wag, though.</p><p>Grif stopped for a moment at the tiny clearing, huffing and puffing at Simmons as he eyed the treats. He padded over to Simmons and sat directly next to him with a heavy thud, then shoved his nose to the backpack and starting sniffing and snuffing. Obviously not being able to open it, he bumped against Simmons' chest, which was practically dwarfed by the size of his furry head. He couldn't help but grumble an impatient, <em>"Awwrrooo!"</em></p><p> </p><p>-----</p><p> </p><p>Simmons held back his grin as Chewy approached, but failed holding it anymore as the fur brushed against his side to settle down next to him. His eyes widened in surprise, closely followed by a genuine and hearty laugh at the impatient howl and head bump.</p><p>"Pfft, chill out. I got it, <em>Chewy</em>." He smirked and shoved the huge head out of the way, maybe <em>accidentally</em> giving a soft ruffle as he did so, and opened one of the boxes to pour some treats unceremoniously on the ground.</p><p>"Uh, I hope these are okay. You don't seem very picky, though. But, there was this guy I met at the store, he was pretty helpful and kind of excited to help out, so I think he really knew what he was talking about, and on top of that he seemed to want to meet again, so maybe I can learn more about what to get you since I mean you can't really talk, he was pretty cute, too, so I wouldn't mind running into-"</p><p>Simmons almost choked, stuttering and trying to backtrack what he just said, remembering this wasn’t just a pet he was rambling to. Has it been this long since he talked to someone that he just blurted shit like that out without a filter? He really needed to get rid of this nervous monologuing habit. And when did he get so <em>friendly</em>? Right, um. Peace offering. Can't do that whole bit while sounding like a dick. Or something. Sure.</p><p> </p><p>=====</p><p> </p><p>Grif leaned down to gobble up the treats as soon as the first one touched the ground, leaning against and over Simmons' lap to do so, making the shove he got to the head ultimately useless. He was busy eating while Simmons spoke, but he was definitely listening. And he was <em>especially</em> listening when he heard 'cute'. His ears perked up and he stopped, staring at Simmons for a few seconds.</p><p>Simmons just called him cute, right? And not wolf-him. Real him. Well- technically this was real him, the wolf was real, but he wasn't <em>born</em> a werewolf. Fuck. Okay, stop staring at him- wolf Chewy doesn't know anything. Oh, how painful it was to act clueless.</p><p>No, it really wasn't. He acted clueless all the time. Easier to deal with most situations.</p><p>Once he finished those treats (which did <em>not</em> take long at all), he sunk down onto his belly, stared at Simmons again, but this time asking for more food. Though, if you looked closely, you could make out a wolfy grin on his face. Maybe he looked a little smug. And his tail was thumping against the ground repeatedly from how much it was wagging.</p><p><em>Simmons just called him cute.</em> Simmons liked him.</p><p> </p><p>-----</p><p> </p><p>Simmons shoved another Oreo in his mouth to prevent himself from talking. Chewy <em>must</em> be making fun of him internally, given that stare.</p><p>Simmons had the inkling of a thought to ask Chewy to transform into his human form, in order to talk more properly, but that was completely thrown out of the window now. Lycans were known for being kind of assholes, so he'd probably get teased to no end about his stupid admittance. But, Chewy seemed different. Plus- did that go against some sort of weird etiquette for werewolves, anyway? Probably. And it was kind of nicer this way. Chewy didn't seem to really mind being his sounding board, sitting there and listening to him without complaint. Probably because he was too busy stuffing his face with treats. Still, it's the first time Simmons has felt comfortable enough talking with someone, with almost no chagrin and unease about someone enjoying his company.</p><p>Did he enjoy Chewy's company? It sure did seem like it. Ah, well. As long as no one else saw or knew, out of safety and embarrassment. It's not like Chewy looked like he was about to make any moves to change up their routine. This was fine.</p><p>"... Maybe you can go with me to see him, he probably has other dog friends you could make," he snorted at the thought. "Grif would probably freak out, I don't think you're too convincing as a <em>normal</em> wolf."</p><p>Shit- well, he basically admitted to knowing he was a werewolf. Wait, would he think that's weird? He must have known that Simmons knew by now. No fucking way he thought he was just some weird dude hanging out with an oversized wolf in the forest, right? Even though that's literally what he was... anyway. More Oreos to munch, less thinking to do.</p><p> </p><p>=====</p><p> </p><p>Grif let out a grunt at the suggestion of Simmons taking him to see himself and his apparent dogs. It just couldn't be done, obviously. But Simmons didn't need a dog excuse to try and find Grif, he almost considered changing just to prove it. But he couldn't let Simmons know <em>he</em> was the werewolf-</p><p>... Wait, why not? Was it dangerous? Simmons didn't seem like he was ready to rat Grif out to anyone. And he just confirmed he knew about him being a werewolf. Maybe it would just be too messy. It sure was tempting, though. He almost forgot about the food for a second, too busy staring at Simmons with huge puppy eyes.</p><p>He whined and bumped his head against Simmons again. "Arrrrrooo," he huffed.</p><p> </p><p>-----</p><p> </p><p>Simmons let out another amused chortle. He tore open the pack of hot dogs and sat them in front of Chewy, then started opening the remaining boxes. Boy, he sure did eat a lot. At least his job paid well enough to not really worry about breaking the bank by feeding a werewolf every night.</p><p><em>Every night</em>? Was that what he was going to do? C'mon, Simmons. Really forgetting why you're out here.</p><p>Well... things in life change. And changing his mind didn't make him <em>wrong</em>. It's just that this was... nice. Seeing the hard-to-refuse puppy eyes and wagging tail was nice. Yeah. He could find another place to hunt. Or just go back to hitting up the clubs, as much as he didn't look forward to it.</p><p>"Ah, well. Maybe I'll stop by that store after work again tomorrow. I could say I'm trying to find you a collar- probably won't find one that will fit, though." He smirked and sparkled, holding out an Oreo in front of the hungry pup.</p><p> </p><p>=====</p><p> </p><p>Grif's tail picked up speed again when the pack of hot dogs was brought out and torn open. He surged his huge head forward to start eating them. Best time he'd had out here so far. He had very quickly earned Simmons' trust, got free food, and found out that this really cute, nerdy guy found him cute as well. Maybe in both forms. People found dogs cute. He also came with extra fluff, very good for cuddling.</p><p>Hearing that Simmons was going to try see him again made this even better. He ate the Oreo out of Simmons' hand whole, since it was tiny compared to him. Then, he grumbled again and frowned up at Simmons at the collar comment.</p><p>"Rrrrouuw," he said. <em>"Wwroo."</em></p><p>If Simmons dared to put a collar on him, he might actually consider the biting-off-arm thing. How <em>embarrassing</em>. But honestly, if Simmons used it as an excuse to hang out more, he <em>might</em> put up with it. If Simmons used it to go see Grif, <em>human</em> Grif, it was a no-go, because that just wouldn't work out.</p><p> </p><p>-----</p><p> </p><p>Simmons returned the were-frown and disagreeable sounds with a soft smile.</p><p>"Don't worry, that'd just be weird, man. Unless you wear a collar in your other form, too. I won't judge if you're into that," he added teasingly. Might as well put himself all out here, since he was being so open as is. He hoped referring to Chewy's human form wouldn't cause him to think he was open to shifting into it without pause. Simmons liked this dynamic; it was comfortable and he didn't wanna ruin it. Maybe because he didn't want to weird himself out knowing he was petting another dude's head and not a regular wolf's, he didn’t think as he patted and scritched behind Chewy's ears. Man, they were <em>really</em> soft.</p><p>Simmons stopped the movement, only to empty out the rest of the treats in front of him. He <em>should</em> probably go back and feed tonight since it's been a while, and it was already getting pretty late. Grabbing his backpack, he gave a final friendly pat and his signature awkward wave.</p><p>"See you tomorrow." He beamed as he turned to leave, hopes high that he'd run into Grif the next day.</p><p> </p><p>=====</p><p> </p><p>Grif growled and smacked Simmons' leg with a huge paw at the collar comment. Okay, definitely biting Simmons' arm off if he tried putting one on him now. Wait-</p><p>His head tilted to the side when Simmons started scratching behind his ears, closing his eyes because it felt nice. Seconds later, though, he felt the hands leave and his eyes snapped back open. Oh, god. That was embarrassing.</p><p>Forgetting about that, he moved on to continue eating the food on the ground, which looked to be the last of it. He only paused when Simmons grabbed his backpack and got up to leave, giving Grif a pat on the head. He almost didn't try to reply, but decided against that, and gave a soft bark goodbye.</p><p>He was going back to the pet store tomorrow.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>two dudes sitting in a pet store five feet apart cuz they're not gay</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. It Probably Wasn't a Date</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>ah yes, the dreaded arrival of simmons' tesla, the source of stupid in-jokes and memes about the auto-driving feature that will never see the light of day</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>-----</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Simmons exhaled, checking out his hair one last time in the rearview mirror as he sat in the parking lot. He could have sworn seeing a tinge of red on his cheeks as he combed his fingers through his short and loosely-curled locks, but that shouldn't be possible. Technically, he didn't think being able to see himself at all in a mirror anymore would be possible, either. But that proved to be a myth, so he learned to second guess everything often... not that he didn't do that already before turning.</p>
<p>He stepped out, patting and flattening his slacks. Why was he preening, anyway? It's not like Grif seemed to care much about appearance. Plus, he was going to a fucking pet store, not on a date. Get yourself together, Dick.</p>
<p>A final exhale, and he made his way inside, tiny bells on the door jingling as he entered.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>=====</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Grif wasn't sure when Simmons was going to be at the pet store, so he decided to just turn up around the time he'd gone yesterday. Even if he ended up having to wait around for ages, he was fine with that. He'd busy himself with other shit, like getting food from wherever.</p>
<p>Jeez. He wasn't used to being anything other than late, but he was just too eager to see Simmons again to end up missing him.</p>
<p>He wandered all around the store today, trying not to appear interested in any of the available things to purchase for dogs. Still had canine instincts.</p>
<p>Every time he heard the door opening and closing (very easy thanks to the bells), he would <em>casually</em> glance over to see if it was Simmons. When it finally did turn out to be Simmons, he physically perked up, but immediately settled back down and pretended he never saw a thing. Woww, interesting... pig ears. Actually, yum- <em>wait, fuck, stop</em>.</p>
<p>... God, he was turning into a mess. Grif was normally so chill.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>-----</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Simmons' eyes darted over towards the dog section as he walked in, <em>oh so casually</em>, and just as conspicuously brightened (quite literally) upon seeing Grif. He seemed to be preoccupied looking at some pig ears. It'd be weird to just run up to him and... ask him for advice on a collar, right? Right, that was the excuse he settled on.</p>
<p>Simmons walked around the adjacent aisles for a couple of minutes, pretending like he didn't notice Grif the moment he arrived. He definitely didn't nervously stroke through his hair a few times before finally getting to the section Grif stood in.</p>
<p>Verrrrry smoothly and casually, he approached without any acknowledgment. He didn't wanna seem too eager, after all.</p>
<p>"Hey, Grif. Fancy seeing you here again," he said nonchalantly, standing a foot away at his side to look at the same treats.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>=====</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Grif definitely did not grow impatient when he saw Simmons had disappeared from the door and he had to wait by the pig ears for a few minutes. Not at all. Because he was chill. Did not worry about anything ever. Did not care.</p>
<p>Yeah, right. When he finally heard footsteps approaching him, followed by Simmons' voice, he might have felt a very brief skip somewhere in his chest. Continuing to be the most chill person ever to exist, he glanced to the side.</p>
<p>"'Sup, Sp-Simmons." Fuck. Don't say Sparkles. Idiot.</p>
<p>Why did he get so messed up after meeting one guy? He felt like he was in some stupid romance movie, and he'd just fallen head-over-heels. Gross. No thanks. No way.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>-----</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Simmons turned his head to look at Grif, surprised. Did he just <em>stutter</em>? Was it because Grif was as nervous as he felt? No, ugh, stop projecting and sounding so pathetic!</p>
<p>... He couldn't help himself from smiling, though, hearing Grif say his name. He remembered it, so maybe Grif thought about him a bit since they first met. Yeah, he was allowed to feel giddy about that.</p>
<p>"Not much," he replied smugly, toning it down to avoid sparkling too much. "Forgot to pick up a collar yesterday. What about you?"</p>
<p>He felt like he was in some stupid romance movie, and he’d already fallen head-over heels. Sappy, but... if he had someone to thank, he would. This was the best he's felt in a while, which is saying something considering all he's doing is talking to someone about dog accessories.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>=====</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Grif shrugged, audibly gulping.</p>
<p>"More food. Uh..." Simmons mentioned suspecting that Grif had a lot of dogs yesterday, right?</p>
<p>"... Lots of dogs to feed, y'know." ... Technically, the wolf was so big that an amount of food to feed five dogs wouldn't even do. Simmons seemed to buy that he had heaps of dogs anyway, without Grif having to say anything about having them.</p>
<p>"What kinda collar you lookin' for?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>-----</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Ha, Simmons was totally right about Grif owning a bunch of dogs. He was so perceptive! Pat on the back for Dick.</p>
<p>"Oh, well, Chewy is pretty big so I doubt they'll have the style I was considering for his size. I was thinking something bright pink, with a ton of rhinestones." God, Chewy would probably rip his arm off for real if he heard his snickering. Oh, shit, this probably sounds kind of stupid, it's not like Grif would know he was joking.</p>
<p>"Uh- it's just that he's pretty picky and seems perceptive about things, and I thought it'd be cute to see him get pissed off while wearing something. Like that. Not that there's anything wrong with something sparkly! Just- not our style," he winced at the end of his ramble, averting his gaze in embarrassment.</p>
<p>Man, he was bad at this small talk and flirting thing. He didn't even know where to start.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>=====</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Grif almost let himself scowl at Simmons' words, but he didn't want Simmons getting the wrong impression, and he was pretty good at holding his amused look. <em>He better fucking not get that pink, sparkly collar. Better not get any collar-</em></p>
<p>Oh, right, he was listening to Simmons. Because Grif is the dog guy now.</p>
<p>... Not just.. literally.</p>
<p>Sigh. Time to act like he wasn't Chewy. He raised a brow, letting out a snort.</p>
<p>"Right. You must have some dog if you can mess around with him like that. Who knows, they probably have somethin' here for him. I don't really look at the collars."</p>
<p>
  <em>Hopefully not.</em>
</p>
<p>Also, Simmons totally just said blah blah cute blah blah, so now Grif could confirm that Simmons found him cute in both forms. Sweet.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>-----</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Honestly, pretty sure he messes with me more. I'm just trying to even the odds." He smiled warmly at Grif while thinking about his weird yet budding relationship with Chewy. Seems like Grif wasn't too into the collar idea for his own dogs, either, so that would be a good excuse to not worry about buying one.</p>
<p>
  <em>... Maybe, he could also use it as an excuse to ask Grif to a casual dinner afterwards since he'd have 'free time', if Grif wasn't busy.</em>
</p>
<p>"Oh, if you don't recommend getting a collar... I mostly keep him off-leash, anyway. I really don't know much about dogs, so basically just winging it and getting whatever I see other people have." By smiling and playing dumb, he hoped to create an opener; a bait for Grif to latch onto and offer more help as a clueless owner, to have more reason to continue their conversation. The guy seemed pretty helpful, so it was worth a shot.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>=====</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Grif looked at Simmons, curious and intrigued. Was he asking for advice or something? No way Simmons was this dumb usually- weird in that nerdy way, but not dumb. He was up to something.</p>
<p>"Winging it, huh?" he sighed, scratching his head just behind the ear. "Uh, collars are fine for dogs. I mean, in case they get lost or some shit, y'know? I just haven't needed to buy... any recently. So... do what you think is best, I guess." He offered a warm smile in return to match Simmons', his heart practically bursting right then and there on the fucking spot. Screw you, Simmons. How could you do this?</p>
<p>Wait, why was he offering this advice? He was basically just encouraging Simmons to get <em>him</em> a collar. Ugh, whatever.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>-----</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Simmons' unbeating heart almost leapt through his throat. It <em>really</em> felt like it was pounding in his eardrums, which again, shouldn't be possible. <em>Oh, man</em>. The smile Grif was giving should be illegal. He <em>really</em> had it bad for him. And he could do nothing but grin like a buffoon back at him. How embarrassing, jeez.</p>
<p>"Oh, uh, thanks!" Hmmm... really, though, glancing along the wall nearby with assorted leashes and collars, it truly didn't seem like there would be one that would fit Chewy. He could just... get a smaller one. And he could... wear it like a bracelet? Ha. That'd be kind of funny.</p>
<p>"This might be strange, but maybe I could get him a smaller collar to wear around his arm? He's <em>impressively</em> big, dude. D'you think that'd work...?" He tilted his head just a bit, hoping it didn't sound too weird.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>=====</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>At least that was less embarrassing than wearing it around his neck...</em>
</p>
<p>Grif shrugged.</p>
<p>"Sure, I guess. You really must have one big fuckin' dog."</p>
<p>It felt so weird, listening to Simmons talk about him without even knowing he was, and also offering advice on what Simmons was talking about, which would end in Grif being embarrassed beyond belief. You're lucky you're fucking cute, Sparkles.</p>
<p>He wasn't sure what he'd do if Simmons really did try putting a collar on him. He didn't think he could ever actually hurt Simmons, so he figured he'd probably just be a real damn grumpy wolf with a grudge. Orrr he might just tear the collar off, that was easy.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>-----</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Ugh, Grif had no idea. It's not like he knew dog breeds well enough to bullshit a large one, and <em>pretty</em> sure you're not allowed to keep wolves as pets around here. And it's not like he was going to tell him about a fucking <em>werewolf</em>. So, he just laughed and scratched his head as a response to help save his ass instead of tripping over his own words.</p>
<p>"Well, uh, I'll just. Look at some collars then." He finger-gunned lamely down the aisle with a cheesy grin, almost tripping as he quickly tried to move the same direction. Jeez, can he <em>ever</em> be smooth, once, please?</p>
<p>As he looked over the different collars, he glanced back at Grif for a short moment. Using the grubby orange hoodie as inspiration, he gravitated towards a small, bright orange leather one. He gripped it confidently, satisfied with his choice, looking back at Grif once more with a sheepish smile.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>=====</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Yeah, alright." Fuck.</p>
<p>Grif's smile grew a little wider just by watching Simmons trip on his way to the collars. What a nerd. As he watched Simmons grab a collar, he knew he was bound to be chewing some leather apart soon, but at least he could approve of the color choice. Then, when Simmons smiled at him, somehow even <em>more</em> warmth spread onto his face, and if he smiled any wider he was sure his face would split.</p>
<p>"Orange is a good color," he said casually, nodding to the collar. He shuffled closer.</p>
<p>"Uh- you come here for anything else or just that?" Ugh, don't sound so desperate to keep talking-</p>
<p> </p>
<p>-----</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Oh, uh, I think just this for now. I'm sure I'll probably forget something and end up coming back tomorrow." God, he hoped his laugh covered the obvious hint to run into him tomorrow. But, the fact that Grif approached him and asked... he had a feeling it wasn't some deed to customer service- it's not like Grif worked there. Maybe the feeling was mutual? Psh. Don't get your hopes up <em>too</em> high.</p>
<p>Still. That big, lopsided grin really did a number on him. It wouldn't be that weird to ask-</p>
<p>"Uh. If you're not going to be long here-"</p>
<p>
  <em>Shit, wait, maybe this was a bad idea, abort abort- no no no, c'mon, you already started saying it-</em>
</p>
<p>"... Are you hungry? With me? I mean- fuck. Do you wanna get something to eat?"</p>
<p>
  <em>Real smooth.</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>=====</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Great, looked like Grif had plans for tomorrow again, the workers must be getting sick of him. He was about to say something, but stopped himself when Simmons continued.</p>
<p><em>Not going to be long here?</em> Wait, was he-</p>
<p>Hungry with- oh, go get something to eat-</p>
<p>... Did Simmons just ask him out?</p>
<p>Hoooly shit. Say yes. Why was this so shocking? Grif knew Simmons thought he was cute -- well, to be honest, people can think that and not want to go out -- and it wasn't like Grif got asked out often, especially not by people he actually felt something towards- Wait, has he agreed yet? Fuck.</p>
<p>"Uh... Sure, yeah. Hungry with you. Sounds good," he let out with a soft snort, trying not to grin too hard. His whole face burned. How strange.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>-----</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Hoooly <em>shit</em>. He said yes, even after screwing that up so bad. Was this really happening? He'd pinch himself, but if it was actually happening, that'd be humiliating. So he'll just beam like a lovesick puppy instead. <em>So</em> grateful about the not-blushing thing, even though his usual cold body was starting to feel very hot, just looking at Grif's reddening face- oh, wow. He seemed like the most chill guy in the universe up until now, and it was... really endearing. This was too much to handle.</p>
<p>"Cool, uh. Yeah. Hungry with me. Right." Simmons snorted, too, finally loosening up as an ineffable joy gripped at his entire being. Would it be too much to cook something for him and go back to his place? He usually didn't eat out, but the prior option seemed way too suggestive.</p>
<p>"What do you like? There's a small pizza place nearby that not too many people know about, wouldn't be too busy probably." Sammie's would probably be fine. Yeah. Cool.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>=====</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Oh wow, Simmons just suggested pizza. And even better, pizza at Sammie's. Grif knew immediately what place he was suggesting.</p>
<p><em>Just take my fucking heart already. How could you be any more perfect?</em> Honestly, Grif didn't think this could get any better.</p>
<p>Okay, that's a lie. But pizza at Sammie's is <em>very</em> important. Actually getting asked out by this guy that he genuinely liked felt great, too. Wow, his face was extremely hot. Was he sweating? Add another moment to the list of<em>, ‘I'm glad I was a human during these specific moments so my tail didn't embarrass me.’</em></p>
<p>"That sounds great," he said quickly, his grin stretching so wide it really did hurt now. "I love Sammie's. Favorite place."</p>
<p>What was a collar? He didn't even care anymore that Simmons would be trying to get that thing on him. He was just looking forward to getting pizza with him. Would he even be able to focus on the pizza?</p>
<p>... Okay, yes. He would. Sammie's pizza was irresistible. <strike>Even if Simmons was as well.</strike></p>
<p> </p>
<p>-----</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Simmons was over the moon with absolutely lucking out at the suggestion- unless Grif was only saying Sammie's was his favorite place to be nice. But that amazing smile really did seem genuine. Fuck. Really wonder how ridiculous he looked right now, since it felt like he was grinning twice as hard as Grif.</p>
<p>"Great! That's- good! Okay!" Wow, try not to sound more excited, why don't you? He looked down at the collar he almost forgot completely about, then back up at Grif.</p>
<p>"Well, I'll just pay for this and wait outside for you. I can drive us there, or you can, um, if you drove here, I don't mind either way." <em>Really</em> gotta work on the rambling thing.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>=====</p>
<p> </p>
<p>This rambling was adorable.</p>
<p>"Nah, didn't drive, I live pretty close by." Grif said, shoving his hands into his hoodie pockets and holding them together in a crushing grip. "I guess I don't really need to buy anything right now, I kinda got heaps of shit yesterday, so... I'll, uh, go wait outside while you pay."</p>
<p>He wasn't going to buy something if it was only to waste time while Simmons waited for him, considering Grif never actually planned to buy anything from here in the first place- it was just his excuse.</p>
<p>So, with that settled, Grif gave Simmons another big smile before heading towards the door to wait outside. He tried to ignore the butterflies he felt in his stomach and the tight feeling in his chest.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>-----</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Simmons simply nodded in agreeance, watching Grif mosey on out in a very chill and not-giddy-anxious-wreck manner like he was personally experiencing. Right, Grif <em>did</em> buy a ton of food yesterday. But then, why would he come here today? Grif wasn't actually hoping to run into him, too, right? Simmons organs were doing all sorts of fun twists and turns, in a good way, at the thought of this. But... maybe it would just be an inconvenience for Grif to buy a bunch of dog treats and lug it around to a restaurant, or he'd feel embarrassed leaving it in his car, but then Simmons would just offer to drive him home, he wouldn't have to worry about- oookay, Dick, get your anxiety roll out of the oven. He said yes. That's all that matters right now. Anyway...</p>
<p>After paying for the collar, the jingling of the store's bells rang as he left. Spirits picking up again after seeing that Grif didn't run off, he happily nodded his head at his Tesla on the other side of the lot.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>=====</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Grif busied himself with leaning casually against the wall of the store until those bells rang and Simmons stepped out, looking excited and giddy and great. He pushed himself off the wall and walked with Simmons to his motherfucking Tesla- because of course Simmons had a Tesla. Not that Grif ever gave a shit about what people think, but he was suddenly glad he hadn't driven his old 1963 Chevy pickup truck. He loved it, though.</p>
<p>"Of course you have a Tesla," he snickered under his breath, shaking his head a little while still grinning ear to ear. "I'm actually surprised that you don't have something <em>more</em> expensive." Simmons just seemed like the type. Like Grif said, rich and pretentious. In the best way possible.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>-----</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"What? What's <em>that</em> supposed to mean?" he squawked defensively, before rambling on in explanation/defensive mode.</p>
<p>"The Model S isn't even <em>that</em> expensive for what it is, plus it's not like I got any extra accessories on it aside from what comes with the standard performance model, although I've been thinking about adding an additional monitor and a slot for the PS5 when that releases- and at least I didn't get the Model X, even though the falcon wing doors would've been like owning a Batmobile-" That last reason was exactly why he <em>didn't</em> get the most expensive model, would have been too predictable and cliché as a... vampire... nerd. Yeah...</p>
<p>Noticing his finger was raised explanatorily as he rambled, he simultaneously snapped his mouth shut and lowered his hand. God. This is probably why he's never had a boyfriend for longer than a week before. Don't ruin this.</p>
<p>Simmons cleared his throat, giving Grif a nod before sliding into the driver's seat on the other side.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>=====</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Grif just raised a brow and stared at Simmons rambled on and on defensively about his fancy Tesla, the grin still forever plastered on his face. Who the hell said Simmons was allowed to be this cute?</p>
<p>"Right. Good thing you don't own a Batmobile, I wouldn't have gotten near the thing."</p>
<p>He eagerly hopped in the passenger's seat, eyes raking across the car. He might like cars a little. While driving or riding in a Tesla wasn't really a thing he sought out to do, he could still appreciate the car. It just didn't have the same charm his did.</p>
<p>Anyway. The car wasn't even one of the reasons he seemed excited right now, even if it was a very chill-excited to anyone else. He was excited to just go eat pizza with Simmons. There he was, sitting in Simmons' car, about to go to his favorite food establishment in the word, Sammie's, to go eat his favorite food in the world, pizza, with whom he was sure was going to end up being his favorite person, Simmons.</p>
<p>Woah, favorite person? That was quick.</p>
<p>Eh.. Grif wasn't really too in touch with many people, anyway. And a lot of the people he did know were definitely not worthy of being his <em>favorite.</em></p>
<p>He buckled up, glancing at Simmons with the same smirk.</p>
<p>"Alright, kidnap away."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>-----</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Simmons snorted, buckling his own seatbelt as he pulled out of the lot. "Didn't anyone ever tell you to check for signs of an axe-murderer before hopping into someone's car for the first time for a da-" His hand never moved faster to turn on the radio before that moment. Why was he freaking out about calling it what it was, though? Oh, fuck, what if Grif thought they <em>weren't</em> on a date, and this was a horrible misunderstanding, and- no, even if that was the case, it'd still be a nice evening. Right. Damn, stop being so depressing. <em>He probably thinks it's a date. Be happy, dumbass.</em></p>
<p>Sammie's was literally only a 3 minute drive away, so it didn't take long to get there.</p>
<p>"Kidnapping successful," he smirked at Grif, parking the car and staring at him for a second too long. Ooohhh boy, his chest felt like a butterfly house.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>=====</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"You don't really seem like a great axe-murderer, I could take you down. You're like, a twink. Couldn't even take down a puma." Grif chortled, only momentarily glancing out the window before training his eyes back on Simmons.</p>
<p>Once they arrived, he sighed and leaned back in his seat.</p>
<p>"Oh, no. I've been kidnapped. How horrible. And I had so much to live foorrrrr..." He pouted (wow, first time the smile wasn't there) up at Simmons, only to find him staring. The pout was wiped away in an instant, and Grif sat back up, clearing his throat.</p>
<p>"Pizza time." He unbuckled and got out of the car, taking this brief moment when Simmons wasn't looking at him to get his grin out.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>-----</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Simmons was too busy sputtering to really respond to <em>anything</em> Grif said at the beginning of the drive, and thankful that it was short so he didn't have to go on some crazy ramble about how he had <em>lean</em> muscle and he just looked so lanky because of how tall he was and <em>what the fuck, seriously, a</em> <strong><em>twink</em></strong>?</p>
<p>Although... if Grif liked twinks, then it wasn't necessarily a bad-</p>
<p>
  <em>Ugh, really, Simmons? Stop thinking like that.</em>
</p>
<p>And... he was probably gonna have trouble not thinking about Grif saying, "I could take you down," later in a different context-</p>
<p>Wow. <em>Wow</em>. Too much time at the Donut Hole. Uh. Anyway. Pizza time. Right.</p>
<p>Simmons laughed at Grif's comment after totally being caught staring. Shit. He trotted close behind and followed through the door of Sammie's as Grif led the way. It really must have been his favorite spot, or at least a frequented one, considering the huge grin he happened to catch a peek of. Simmons' own was definitely caused by his date partner rather than the food. Maybe a bit of Grif's was for the same reason. Either way, Simmons was satisfied in being able to make Grif happy by taking him to get his favorite eats.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Simmons Knows How to Eat Pizza</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>A little bit of RP headcanon time! When we've done these RPs, we came up with a whole meta situation that Grif and Simmons RP together as themselves. Like, we'll talk in character on the Grif/Simmons accounts outside of the RP channel, about the RP that they're doing. Sounds silly because it is- and a source of us going insane and laughing and the dumbest things. We had some ongoing jokes around it, like them not 'canonically' (outside of the RP) being a couple, yet either will do something cute/lame and use RP as an excuse to do something romantic and thus live vicariously through it instead of actually admitting any sort of feelings (in true Grimmons fashion, of course.) This is the wholesome explanation, anyway- normally we just do little dumb or one-off jokes. For example, arguing about the usability of a jeans chair and quoting Jenna Marbles' video almost verbatim for over an hour, or Simmons sending Grif a Zoom chat invite titled, "Social Distancing Doesn't Mean Getting Further Apart &lt;3".</p>
<p>Anyway, this was my original note I had before thinking to explain that whole thing. The HC here for Simmons was: he always makes his self-insert good at cooking because he's not actually good at it, and does so out of the desire to cook for/with Grif. :&gt;</p>
<p>Thanks for reading and hope you enjoy this not-date that definitely has absolutely no cringey moments at all!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>=====</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Even as Grif made his way inside the pizza place, he kept beaming at Simmons the whole time. It was definitely a mix of the food and the date, but for once maybe mostly the date. He looked around for a place to sit, then wrapped his fingers snug around Simmons' wrist and pulled him to a table. He sat down in a seat with a thud quite similar to that of Chewy flopping on the ground, already licking his lips.</p>
<p>"'M so glad we came here," he groaned. "Seriously, the best pizza ever." He hoped Simmons liked it. He wanted Simmons to like it. If this worked out, he'd be eating Sammie's with Simmons all the time, and it'd be the best. Hanging out with Simmons anywhere would be the best. It <em>is</em> the best. That was why Grif was so eager to hang out, obviously.</p>
<p>Speaking of Simmons...</p>
<p>Grif looked up at him from across the table, a large and genuine smile stuck on his face and his eyes wide. Simmons looked happy, too. Good. That made Grif happy. He wondered what kind of pizza Simmons liked...</p>
<p> </p>
<p>-----</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Simmons was more giddy than he'd ever been in his life, or so he thought until Grif snatched his wrist. Just from that grasp, he could tell Grif was pretty strong, which wasn't a surprise considering his stocky build. It was hot- uh, hot, like, literally searing his own too-cold wrist. <strike>Yeah okay subjectively too whatever don't judge-</strike></p>
<p>For some reason, he was reminded of Chewy in the moment they sat across from each other. Something about Grif's eyes -- they were at least the same color -- but it was probably the shining eagerness to eat pizza. Pizza <em>was</em> the first thing he ever shared with Chewy, too. And Grif was pretty hairy, too, and it was funny how they both also-</p>
<p>
  <em>Wait, why the fuck are you thinking about that wolf at a crucial time like this? Get your head in the game, man!</em>
</p>
<p>Simmons kept his grin at full force, without having to actually force in any way.</p>
<p>"Me, too. I haven't been here in a while, but it's always been my favorite pizza joint." Oh, he could try to score some points here since they're on topic.</p>
<p>"I usually cook for myself. Actually started trying out a few pizza recipes recently," he said, sticking up his nose as his grin turned more cocky <strike>and sparkly</strike>.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>=====</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Oh yeah?"</p>
<p>Of course Grif already kind of knew this, but not to the full extent. He just knew that Simmons had brought him homemade pizza the first night they'd had a <em>proper</em> interaction which was quite pleasant.</p>
<p>"What pizza you make? You any good?"</p>
<p>Grif could say that Simmons was actually at least decent at making pizza, if he remembered correctly from the other night when he gobbled it all down.</p>
<p>He couldn't help but imagine a painfully domestic fantasy of making homemade pizza with Simmons- <em>ugh, gross, when did he get so gross?</em> ... He couldn't help it. He got to see Simmons, like, twice a day now. Once as human, second as wolf, and both were so different yet so the same and both equally as enjoyable of a time. So, yeah, he was just going to be gross. Fuck you, he was allowed to.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>-----</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Mostly ones that are equivalent to the classic meatlover's here, I tend to be pretty bad with adding greens or veggies." Honestly, Simmons didn't <em>need</em> to eat normal food to survive anymore, considering blood was the only thing that provided actual nourishment to his system. But he always found cooking methodology to be relaxing. He couldn't particularly stand anything that wasn't meat-based since turning, though. Not that he was a health nut by any means, but the variety was something he missed a lot.</p>
<p>"I can't say I'm bad. Pizzas are hard to perfect. I'm sure I'll get better with more practice."</p>
<p>
  <em>I could show you sometime.</em>
</p>
<p>Aaand now, he's having some painfully domestic fantasy of showing Grif how to make homemade pizza. He had only seen the guy a couple of times, and he was already having these sorts of thoughts? Ugh. <em>Whatever, screw you, man.</em> He's allowed to have this.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>=====</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Grif almost sighed dreamily and melted into a puddle of putty right on the spot.</p>
<p>Meatlover's was pretty nice when you were a huge, carnivorous canine creature that fed on the raw flesh of animals that he managed to hunt down. And Grif was never really a huge fan of vegetables anyway, even prior to being bitten and turned.</p>
<p>"'M sure you're fine at it, pizza's pretty hard to mess up completely."</p>
<p>
  <em>You should show me sometime.</em>
</p>
<p>"Meatlover's is pretty damn good," he grinned, tilting his head to the side and resting his chin on the palm of his hand. "We could get some right now. I'll probably also get a supreme or two, as well, though."</p>
<p>He was very aware that he <em>should</em> be making a decent impression on his first date with Simmons, but Simmons hadn't shown any genuine disgust and the want to leave whenever he, as a wolf, finished food within seconds. He didn't feel like bothering to change for someone anyway. If Simmons really did want this, he'd have to get used to Grif eating more than one whole pizza, because Grif did not give one single fuck. No way was he cutting back on food, either.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>-----</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Simmons hoped his meatlover's was good enough for Grif to try sometime. He'd definitely show him, if he was interested, though he should probably practice making a few more and retune the recipe a bit even though it was <em>good</em> it could be better and obviously he had to make a great first impression so yes right mental note to stop by the store on the way home to pick up enough ingredients to make fifteen or so pizzas later.</p>
<p>... Anyway. He snorted, this time more in disbelief, until he realized Grif was being completely serious about ordering three pizzas. Well, guess he was more similar to Chewy than he initially realized, if he could eat all that in one sitting. But it wasn't too weird to order extras to take home, too, so that's more likely what was happening here.</p>
<p>"Sure. That's fine with me."</p>
<p>Simmons found it funny in a way, drawing these similarities between two most recent and close acquaintances. Except for, y'know, one being a dog and the other a... dog owner. Wait, he didn't really know much about Grif, did he?</p>
<p>"So... what do you do for a living, aside from go to pet stores and feed an army of dogs?" He asked, flagging down the nearest waitress to take their order.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>=====</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Jesus, it was like Simmons <em>wanted</em> Grif to fall in love. It was <em>fine</em> with Simmons, having three entire pizzas on a date. Honestly, Simmons, how could you? How dare you want Grif to fall in love?</p>
<p>Shit- snap out of it, question coming your way.</p>
<p>Grif snorted at 'an army of dogs', having to remember his alibi. He'd try thinking of names in case he was asked, but he didn't care that much. He hated lying to Simmons, but it really wasn't that safe to go around telling people you're a werewolf, and he wasn't sure if he was ready for Simmons to know yet.</p>
<p>"Uh, for a living? I drive people around sometimes." He shrugged. "Like, uh, y'know. Uber. I like driving. Guess that's why I wasn't so afraid of you being an axe-murderer, I'm in cars with strangers all the damn time." He snickered. When the waitress arrived at their table, he paused to put in an order of one meatlover's and two supremes. Yum.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>-----</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Simmons grinned at Grif's near-giggle, which was a way cuter noise than anyone should ever be able to make. His occupation seemed to be a great fit, with how easy-going and conversational he was. It's something Simmons envied for sure, even though he could put up a good social fight if the situation depended on it. Such as this one.</p>
<p>Simmons very casually and unintentionally rested his hand across the table so it was closer to Grif's, leaning back in his chair to match the relaxed stance on display across from him.</p>
<p>"Sounds like you'd be good at it. I'm not too much of a people person myself, so I'd probably die doing that, let alone for a job." More smiles. Hopefully a good impression. Hell if he wasn't gonna try his best to win Grif over for a chance at horribly domestic scenarios with him in the future.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>=====</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Grif's eyes flickered to the movement on the table, settling on Simmons' hand which was very, very close. His fingers twitched, so eager to rest upon the other man's. Damn you, Simmons. You knew what you were doing.</p>
<p>... He moved his hand a little closer, his fingertips resting on Simmons'.</p>
<p>He acted like he'd done nothing when he looked back up to Simmons' way too attractive, sculpted face. He let out another snort, some more snickering.</p>
<p>"Yeah, I guess I'm alright at it. It's pretty easy. What are you good at, then? What d'you do?" Obviously, Simmons' job paid well enough to afford a Tesla, whatever it was, and Simmons seemed too smart not to have some weird, important rich-kid job. And sue Grif for being at least a little curious in return as to what this guy that he found very quick growing interest in did for a living.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>-----</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Simmons froze slightly at the fingers touching his. But soon enough, he slid his hand forward until his entire hand rested under Grif's. His face was really starting to hurt from how hard he's been smiling at all of Grif's laughs and little gestures.</p>
<p>Oh. His job. It was normal enough, but... well... he really liked Grif, and it wouldn't hurt to explain what he did, so long as he was mostly vague about his place of work. Maybe he'd find it interesting.</p>
<p>"I'm a software engineer at a newer tech company. They're really up and coming in... um..." <em>Don't say too much about it and scare him off, idiot.</em></p>
<p>"This is gonna sound weird, but they deal with paranormal and supernatural cases- uh, studies? I don't have anything to do with the... front end of the business, since I just work on app dev and helping out with infrastructure sometimes and- yeah, computer stuff."</p>
<p>The explanation he tripped through was technically all true; he'd feel awful lying to Grif. But the business itself... it was simply ironic that he worked there, considering it was a fairly high-tech place that assigned hunters to take out peskier creatures that go bump in the night; the most common being rogue vampires and werewolves. He didn't want <em>anyone</em> to figure out about his own status, since he'd lose more than his job. Probably why he felt more of a connection to Chewy than he'd admit.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>=====</p>
<p> </p>
<p>As much as Grif would love to focus on the hand that now rested under his own, he couldn't ignore what he'd just heard. He raised his eyebrows, immediately feeling a small spike of concern. <em>Deal</em> with paranormal and supernatural cases? Was he.. safe around Simmons? He'd never rat him out to his weird job, right? If he ever found out? Wait- of course not. He hung out with a werewolf during the evenings, and seemed completely fine with it, no ill intentions present.</p>
<p>... Hopefully. But he couldn't find it in himself to be wary around Simmons for longer than the few seconds it took him to mull over these thoughts. Simmons didn't seem like the type to try sell him out. He seemed nice. And, again, he hung out with a werewolf. But, he'd just have to... keep hiding the fact he was a werewolf anyway, just to be safe, for a little while longer. It wasn't like he had any sort of plan to tell Simmons yet, anyway.</p>
<p>"... Huh. Wow. Paranormal and supernatural?" He tried to sound nonchalant, but still interested. "Uh, that's cool. Kinda crazy, too. And I dunno much 'bout tech, 'm not a nerd like you," he grinned again.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>-----</p>
<p> </p>
<p>A huge sigh of relief stilled in Simmons' chest, not wanting to seem suspicious in any way. Grif literally was the chillest person he'd ever met for not giving a skeptical or weary retort like he grew accustomed to when first working this job. Grif really seemed more and more like the perfect guy with every minute that went by.</p>
<p>As if to show this sentiment, he pulled his hand back only enough to lace his fingers with Grif's. He glanced down as he squeezed for a moment, then locked eyes again. Very warm. Super nice.</p>
<p>"Yeah, it's pretty weird. And it's not so bad being a nerd, I think." He offered a smug sparkle, almost purposefully letting his vamp pheromones out more than usual. He wasn't abusing it or anything- it was just an added kick to things. Just then, the waitress stopped by to drop off their three large and amazing-smelling pizzas. He was too distracted though to really notice.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>=====</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Grif's smile grew back to the regular size it had been at since he first started talking to Simmons today. Not breaking the soft eye contact, he squeezed back.</p>
<p>Man, Simmons was cold all the time. The complete opposite to Grif, who was like a walking, talking heater. Okay, maybe not so much the walking part...?</p>
<p>Hey, there it was again. The sparkles and the smell. Not the dead smell, the smell that came with the sparkles. Grif almost wanted to bring it up, but that would definitely give him away. No normal human could just <em>smell</em> pheromones (if Grif was guessing correctly, it'd taken him a bit to figure it out). At least, not like dogs could. Grif just happened to be able to turn into a massive wolf beast. How convenient, right? Still, it didn't explain what they were or where they came from-</p>
<p>"It suits you, nerd."</p>
<p>Finally, his eyes were drawn away from Simmons and to the pizzas before they even arrived at the table. His head perked up and he watched the waitress approach the table. Ugh, thank you, wolfy abilities. He could smell very well, as was just established, and therefore these pizzas smelled extra delicious. With the hand that was not laying on top of his date's, he quickly reached forward to grab a slice from one of the pizzas. He began to eat quickly and messily, yet again in a similar fashion to a certain wolf. Guess they both loved pizza, wow.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>-----</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Wow, the way Grif inhaled his pizza was eerily similar to- <em>man, are you seriously still comparing your date to a werewolf?</em> Give him a little more credit... even if he quite literally wolfed down one slice after another.</p>
<p>But, Simmons somehow found this charming nonetheless, even though he himself was tidy and proper when eating. Y'know. When he's not sucking the nape of an <em>actual </em>twink (because he <em>wasn't</em> one) in a back alley. Different kind of meal.</p>
<p>Reluctantly pulling his hand back, he grabbed the fork and knife from the napkin roll in front of him, and slid a couple slices onto his own plate. The way he ate could be described as delicate compared to what he saw across the table. Simmons smile remained as he tilted his head, watching Grif and forking a methodically-cut piece of pizza into his mouth. Dude really must love pizza.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>=====</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Grif had already finished half a pizza by now, but suddenly froze in the middle of biting down on a slice to stare at Simmons in pure horror. He let the pizza slice drop back down onto the plate, his expression never changing.</p>
<p>"...Simmons," he finally spoke. "Why are you eating pizza with a knife and fork. Why are you cutting your pizza. Your pizza is cut already. Perfect slices. What are you doing." He sounded completely and totally serious.</p>
<p>Simmons was <em>not</em> eating pizza with a fucking fork right now, no way. Grif was not having it.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>-----</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Simmons stared back like a deer in headlights. Anxiety from 0 to 100. Okay, maybe more like 40 to 100. Oh fuck. He fucked this up, didn't he?</p>
<p>"Um... I... just-" Frankly, it was hard to swallow anything that wasn't a viscous, bloody liquid, so he found himself cutting food into smaller pieces nowadays. But even before he became a vamp, he still ate his pizza like this, cleanly and properly. Was this a deal breaker for Grif? He seemed so serious about it, would he stand up and walk out over not eating pizza traditionally- hey, wait. This is fucking stupid! It's not like there was a right way to eat pizza, and his way was <em>much</em> less animalistic.</p>
<p>... Simmons lowered his fork with the same expression, anxiety taking over for being <em>wrong</em> about how he's eaten pizza his entire life, the argument fizzling out before he could vocalize it.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>=====</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Grif narrowed his eyes and snatched a slice of pizza up from the plate- <em>not</em> the one he just had in his mouth- and shoved it in Simmons' direction, holding it in front of his face. Then he almost looked pleading.</p>
<p>"Simmons. I need you to eat this pizza normally," he said in a completely normal and not weird voice.</p>
<p>"This is how you eat pizza. Put the fork away, babe."</p>
<p>Okay, the 'babe' thing was ironic. This was a first date. He swore he wasn't calling Simmons 'babe' unironically.</p>
<p>Anyway.</p>
<p>He couldn't believe Simmons just started eating pizza with a <em>fork</em>. How wrong was that. You eat pizza with your hands! Guess he'd just have to teach Simmons, if he didn't know. Ugh, amateurs these days.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>-----</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Even though it would have been physically impossible, Simmons' eyes grew even wider. What the fuck was going on? Let's break this down before having an actual breakdown.</p>
<p>One: Grif was still telling him he was wrong about eating pizza. Regardless of his table manners and upbringing, it <em>was</em> more normal for people to use their hands. And Grif obviously had strong feelings about pizza. Okay. Makes sense. Anxiety meter: [||||||||--] 80%</p>
<p>Two: Grif was... threatening? To hand feed him pizza. To show him how it's done. Is Grif using this as an excuse to be cute and... feed him? That's what people did on dates, right? Okay. That sounds more normal. Anxiety meter: [||||------] 40%</p>
<p>Three: Grif just called him babe. Anxiety meter: [||||||||||]||||| <em>-OVERFLOW ERROR-</em></p>
<p>Four: ... Grif just called him babe. That means the excuse thing was probably more accurate? Unless he was joking? No. Let's be positive. <em>Just eat the damn pizza, Simmons.</em> Anxiety meter: [||||------] 40%</p>
<p>Simmons leaned forward, the same feeling of a pseudo-blush he'd been experiencing far too often lately, to take a bite.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>=====</p>
<p> </p>
<p>As soon as Simmons took a bite of the pizza, Grif realized what he was actually doing. He was leaning over the table to hand feed Simmons- oh God, Simmons probably thinks he's a fucking weirdo now. Ugh, whatever. The serious pleading expression melted away from his face. Shit, why was he just watching? Did he continue to hold it until the whole slice was finished? Did he let Simmons take the slice? Shit, this was a mistake. Maybe if this wasn't so embarrassing it'd actually be a nice moment. Because- that was a thing, right? Feeding... significant others... food...?</p>
<p>"Uh," he gulped. "... Cool..." He went to lower his hand, taking the pizza away from Simmons' face. His face burned again.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>-----</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Well. At least Grif looked as awkward as he felt, so it's not like he was alone in that. Maybe... oh fuck. Was Grif just doing that to tease him and not expect him to actually take a bite, and that's why he was embarrassed? How fucking mortifying, oh <em>shit</em>.</p>
<p>
  <em>Okay. No, this is fine. Toooottally fine. Play it cool. You can recover from this. Don't be a dumbass, you're smarter than this. Use your nerdy vampire magic and sparkle away.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>... Did he seriously just fucking think that oh God-</em>
</p>
<p>Simmons laughed, very casually and not awkwardly in any way. "Didn't realize we were close enough already to do that, am I that charming?" Fuck. That was too forward. Another laugh to indicate that he was totally joking. <em>Fuck</em>, why did he have to be so damn awkward- time to eat pizza in the Grif-approved way to shut up. <em>Munch munch-</em></p>
<p> </p>
<p>=====</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Ugh, Simmons seemed so uncomfortable now. Grif silently picked up the slice he'd dropped before to continue eating. He was still thinking of what to say when Simmons... made a joke? ..Could be an uncomfortable joke, though. He let out a light snort anyway, trying to let the tension seep off his shoulders. It was probably fine. He rolled his eyes.</p>
<p>"Yeah, <em>so</em> charming that I just couldn't help it. Like, wow, Simmons. You really know how to make a guy swoon." and, even though he was still a little worried, yet again he was grinning so wide that his cheeks hurt. Yeah, it was probably fine. He genuinely hoped he hadn't fucked this up on their first date.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>-----</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Okay, whew. It's not like he talked to Grif all that much yet, but Simmons had a good feeling that the sarcasm was a 'we both fucked up and let's move forward and never talk about that again' sort of thing, rather than a 'shit what a fucking weirdo, I'll be nice to this nerd for now but definitely not giving him my number afterwards' thing. And that grin. Yes, okay. It seemed genuine, as usual. And attractive, as usual. It made him feel more at ease in an instant, and match it with his own somehow faster.</p>
<p>"Pfft. You're kind of a nerd in your own way, man."</p>
<p>Simmons put his hand back on the table as a... peace offering. <em>Peace offer-</em> oh shit, Chewy. It was getting late, he should probably wrap this up soon to go feed him. Even though he <em>really</em> didn't want to.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>=====</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"<em>I'm</em> a nerd?" he scoffed, glancing down at Simmons' hand which now appeared back on the table like it had earlier. He moved his own hand on top of Simmons' again, warmth spreading through his chest. They were good. Great, Grif didn't fuck it up.</p>
<p>"How am I a nerd, nerd?"</p>
<p>It didn't take long to fall back into being absolutely smitten. He didn't even realize that it was almost the usual time that he headed into the forest, too busy staring and listening to Simmons and eating delicious Sammie's pizza. <strike>Yet another moment to add to that list about his tail-</strike></p>
<p>Speaking of pizza, he had now finished most of it, but there were definitely quite a few slices left between the both of them.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>-----</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Yeah, and now he <em>really</em> didn't want to go. Grif's hand basically felt like it was burning, with how warm it was making him... Chewy could wait a <em>little</em> bit longer.</p>
<p>"Dunno, there are different types of nerds. For example, you seem like a dog nerd," Simmons said, taking another slice of pizza with his free hand. "Oh, yeah! You never told me about them. How many do you have? What kinds of breeds? Are they all named after pizza toppings or something? Oh yeah, maybe I should order another couple of pizzas to go for Chewy, too-" Simmons always rambled, but even moreso when he was as smitten as a kitten, apparently. Good thing he didn't mess this all up and could find out more about Grif's personal life.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>=====</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Shit. He was hoping Simmons wouldn't ask about the dogs.</p>
<p>"Uhhh..." People don't always know the breeds of their dogs, right? "I dunno the breeds, but their names... their names, uh..."</p>
<p>Quick, look around, think of people you know, things you like.</p>
<p>"... Well, there's Kai... Grape, Ssss- Cinnamon." Shit. Wait! Sparkles! Wait, don't give yourself too many dogs-</p>
<p>"And. Uh. Sparkles." Four was heaps. Especially for Grif.</p>
<p>"They're good.. dogs.. big dogs, but not as big as your dog, by the sounds of it."</p>
<p>Wait.</p>
<p>He glanced out the window for a brief second. Huh- it was.. already the time they'd usually meet up as Sparkles and Chewy. But.. Simmons was here still. So he didn't mind. But Simmons didn't know that he was Chewy, so if he cared about their forest meet-ups, he probably did mind.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>-----</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Cute names. And haha, yeah, I have no idea what breed Chewy is either, he might be part grizzly bear for all I know."</p>
<p>Four dogs <em>was</em> a lot for one guy to take care of, unless he lived with other people? He probably shouldn't ask about his living situation, that was probably too personal for a first date. But, if he <em>did</em>, it'd be more of an excuse to get him over to his flat to cook. They seemed to be hitting it off well enough to... maybe... offer that? Would that be okay?</p>
<p>"Speaking of Chewy, I should probably start heading out. Don't wanna keep him waiting." Simmons slid his hand out from Grif's, placing it on top to squeeze it. "Maybe, uh. Are you free tomorrow? It's the weekend, so... I could make you lunch? Or something?" Fuck, that better not be too much. He was too busy grinning like an idiot to really care, though.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>=====</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Grif snorted. He definitely was the size of a bear as a wolf, he could also definitely take one down if he had to. Bet.</p>
<p>"Oh, right. Important dog business." He smiled even wider at the nice squeeze he felt on his hand. Then he felt his face growing hot again. "Uh- yeah, I'm free. Totally free. Lunch sounds great."</p>
<p>This was Simmons inviting him <em>over</em> for lunch, right? That was what he meant by 'make you lunch', right? Oh, wow, his cheeks ached real bad right now. More than they had been this whole time. Gross, he could see the painfully domestic image coming to life right in front of his eyes, and he was still only on his first date with this guy. But they <em>were</em> kinda talking about a second one, right? It counted, sure. Totally a date.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>-----</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Simmons was too preoccupied with daydreaming about horribly domestic things and stroking his thumb across Grif's hand for a few seconds, to notice that he was doing that for exactly a few seconds longer than was considered normal. Probably, anyway. What was normal anymore, anyway? Feeling this ecstatic probably wasn't normal, but it's not like it was bad. Yeah! Fuck you, normalcy!</p>
<p>"Yeah, it does! Um. Cool." Simmons, in a very cool manner, retrieved his now toasty hand to take out his phone. Why did his anxiety skyrocket again thinking about getting his number? It's not like they're not already dating. Wait, does it count as <em>dating</em>-dating? Is- no, too soon to think about that kind of shit. Chill out. Just get his number.</p>
<p>"Here, uh," he passed his phone over the table, "Easier than trying to randomly bump into each other at a pet store." ....... He was totally not giddy right now, shhhh.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>=====</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Simmons definitely shouldn't feel bad about zoning out as they literally just sat and enjoyed a second or two or three or more together, because Grif had enjoyed it way too much as well.</p>
<p>Grif tried not to be too disappointed when the hand left, because get over it, and instead took Simmons' phone to verryyy casually put his number in.</p>
<p>"Yeah, way easier."</p>
<p>He may have also, maybe, just maybe, set his contact name in Simmons' phone as 'the most handsome man in the world', because that was so cool. He may have had the slightest temptation to leave some kind of hint that he was the werewolf Simmons went to see every evening, but he didn't.</p>
<p>He smugly handed Simmons' phone back after also sending a quick text to himself saying, <em>'send dunes.'</em></p>
<p>"There."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>-----</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Thanks," Simmons said, pocketing his phone immediately, because otherwise he'd hold onto it and stare like a school girl while trying not to squeal. Not that he'd squeal, like ever, or that it was a sound he could even produce. He was trying his hardest not to do that, anyway.</p>
<p>After they parted ways and Simmons dropped Grif off on a side street near his place (he was <em>not</em> ready to do the whole gentleman routine of walking him home, that's more of a second or third date thing in his book), he rushed back home to pick up leftover homemade pizza and treats. Chewy would have probably been waiting there for a while already, considering they usually met earlier on previous occasions.</p>
<p>Oh yeah, he should check on some of the traps he laid out, too. Simmons remembered to strap his hunting knife to his belt, a skip in his step as he rushed out the door to feed his pet werewolf.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>=====</p>
<p> </p>
<p>When Grif was dropped off, he was only in the house for a short period of time, dropping off his own phone (after creating Simmons' contact), anything else he'd had on him, and then changing into some clothes that he could tear. Turning wasn't always the smoothest process, and most of the time clothes didn't really just disappear into thin air. Anyway, after doing all that, he strolled out of the house, as if he was just on a walk, and headed towards the forest.</p>
<p>Grif hated exercise. He hated doing gym in high school, and he usually didn't do more than shuffle along the footpath to get somewhere (if he wasn't driving). However, Grif <em>did</em> like long walks on the beach. This wasn't a long walk on the beach, but usually in the afternoons and evenings, the air was cool enough and the wind pushed at his hair enough to remind him ever so slightly of it. He could smell every scent in the area, and hear every noise. Sometimes he'd smell some hint of salt. That was enough.</p>
<p>
  <em>Man, he missed the beach.</em>
</p>
<p>He came to a stop at the edge of the trees.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>-----</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"<em>The most handsome man in the world.</em> Pfft. Well, he might not be wrong," Simmons said to himself with a huge, stupid grin, eyes glued to his phone as he walked towards one of his usual trap spots. <em>Ugh</em>, when did he sound so fucking sappy? ... Probably ever since he found and went on a date with the most handsome man in the world-</p>
<p>Oh, <em>shit</em>- that was close. Stupid carcass in the middle of the path tripping him. He looked back at his phone after regaining his footing- <em>wait, what?</em></p>
<p>Oh. That's kind of depressing. The little warthog must have been only a month old at most. It's a wonder it even got this far with a full-sized leg-hold trap around its body like that. Wait... it <em>shouldn't</em> have, since he fastened it to a tree. How would it even-</p>
<p>A sharp pain in his side, and all he could do to react before getting pinned down was scream, "<em>Son of a <strong>bitch-</strong></em>"</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>And to ruin the cliff-hanger, meme art from this chapter...<br/></p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Looks More Like a Puma</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Start of this year ended up being... ruff (haha.............. I'm so sorry-) and didn't update when I intended to, but hope you enjoy the continuation of boy meets wolf :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>=====</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Once he was safely deep enough in the forest to turn, Grif stopped again. The transformation was quick, but painful. At least he'd gotten used to it by now. The horrible cracking, snapping and bending of bones, the twisting and moving around of internal organs- you can imagine. It was only seconds, though, until he was a wolf so large it could take down a bear easily, if it tried.</p>
<p>He shook his fur out and trotted through the forest to head to the usual area where he'd go to meet with Simmons.</p>
<p>He was stopped by a scream.</p>
<p>That was not a normal forest animal. Everything around him stilled. His big ears flew up and his head spun around to face the direction of which he heard the scream- <em> Simmons' </em> scream. Listen closely. It didn't sound like an annoyed scream. It sounded panicked. Pained. A cry for help. He knew a cry for help when he heard one. The animals that he hunted down gave him plenty of experience, for example.</p>
<p>He started running. His large paws kicked up dirt and twigs and leaves, barely visible with how fast they were going. He hadn't run this fast in a long, long while. He was panting within seconds, but showed no signs of slowing down.  </p>
<p>Fuck. Fuck. Shit. Please be fine. You better be fine, you fucking dickhead.</p>
<p>To try and let Simmons know this, that he was on his way, he began to howl. It was a deep sound that built up in his chest, made its way out of his mouth and echoed into the world for all to hear. He didn't do this often. It felt stereotypical, dumb, pointless, for a werewolf to howl at the moon or some shit. Now it didn't, any form of communication he could use would work.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>-----</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Fuck fuck fuck fuck <b> <em>fuck</em></b>," he wasn't fine, this wasn't good. Being pinned under a fucking abnormally huge and pissed off warthog was not good. Scrambling on the ground with 600 pounds of pig on top of him and fearing for his life was not good. The feeling of a foot-long tusk digging into his chest was not good. Simmons was not fine.</p>
<p>If only he could get to his hunting knife to have some sort of edge on this fucker. That was impossible, though, since he was using all of the strength he had just to death grip both tusks and prevent either from piercing his rib cage.</p>
<p>Even if he had properly fed in the past week, there's no way that he'd be able to handle this. This was such a fucking stupid mistake, why did he hunt alone, why did he not take any precautions, why the fuck did he have to live this stupid fucking kind of life now? Maybe he wouldn't have to worry about the last thing for too much longer. His endurance was wearing thin through each pant and struggle.</p>
<p>Simmons' eyes darted everywhere, anywhere- <em> please </em> , there's gotta be something he could find, fucking anything to help, <em> any </em>-</p>
<p>Oh, that howl. No fucking way.</p>
<p>"CHEWY!! CHEWY, FUCK- OVER HERE!! HELP I CAN'T FUCKING-- GOD <b>DAMNIT</b>!"</p>
<p>He could only hope that Chewy would get to him before his arms gave out, which felt like it could be at any moment.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>=====</p>
<p> </p>
<p>His voice-- Simmons was still alive! Simmons was still alive, but he needed help, needed help bad. Grif growled before another howl bubbled up and burst out of his chest, forcing his legs to run faster and faster until he almost couldn't feel the ground beneath his paws. He ducked and swerved to avoid branches and trunks, somehow only getting grazed the whole way there. </p>
<p>This was taking too long. He was too worried. But it was fine- yes, it was fine, he could tell he was quickly advancing on Simmons' location. Just over these bushes, through these trees, and-</p>
<p>The wolf burst out of the trees, skidding on the ground as he came to a stop next to Simmons and the big warthog that had him pinned down. His lips were pulled back and his teeth were bared in a vicious snarl. The fur on his back was bristled angrily and he was lowered close to the ground, ready to jump. Not wanting to waste a second, he lunged at the warthog, the goal being to throw it off of Simmons. He could deal with killing it once Simmons was not in direct danger of being impaled. He lodged his sharp teeth into its flesh, dug his claws in as well. The thing was pretty much the same size as Grif, but that didn't stop him.</p>
<p>He hadn't felt a feeling like this outside of the full moon. And even then, this was different. On the full moon, he was only a little wild, being unable to control transformations and think clearly. Right now, he just felt insane. Murderous. <em> Extremely </em> protective. He wasn't going to fucking give up.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>-----</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Simmons eyes were squinted shut, tearing up from exhaustion, when the pressure was ripped away from his chest as if it didn't exist to begin with. Fuck. Was he dead? Like, the real kind of dead?</p>
<p>The ringing in his ears subsided, the sounds of snarling and rending of skin and tendons becoming more focused as he opened one eye at a time.</p>
<p>Slack-jawed and panting, all he could do was stare in awe with his ass on the forest floor, watching Chewy maul the shit out of the beast that almost ended his life. It was impressive. Frightening. Chewy looked <em> insane </em>. Majestic, almost.</p>
<p>Was there anything he could do? It would be stupid to try and get in their way, if the past several minutes proved he was incapable of doing much.</p>
<p><em> Shit </em>- yeah, definitely injured, too. Simmons winced as he tenderly grabbed at his chest, eyes locked on the battle before him. At least it seemed to mostly be bruised, maybe a broken rib at the very most, but nothing he hasn't dealt with before. Adrenaline was probably fucking about with his thoughts, though.</p>
<p>Chewy had this, though; Simmons' worry for him dimmed as seconds passed. The warthog looked like it was on its last breath, and he couldn't smell too much wereblood in the air. This fight was theirs.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>=====</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Grif didn't hold back, pushing and shoving the warthog with all his might. When he wasn't trying to keep the warthog back, he was using his incredibly strong jaws to bite down and tear away flesh, tendons, anything he could get his teeth into. Often he'd try to go for the neck, as that was the place that would get him the quickest kill. He scratched at the flesh of the beast. Blood was spilled. Mostly the warthog's blood, Grif managed not to get impaled by the tusks, but he did get cut and beat up. </p>
<p>The fight lasted minutes. Grif's eyes were wide and feral. He jumped up and latched onto the back of the warthog nearing the end of the fight, causing it to stumble and fall onto its side. He acted fast and bit down yet again, sunk his claws in deep, did not let go until the thing went limp. He slowly backed away, the blood that coated his teeth and snout dripped from his chin, while the rest of the blood was smeared through his fur. He was breathing heavily, chest heaving.</p>
<p><em> Good riddance. </em> </p>
<p>The feral look didn't melt away from his eyes for a while. Licking his chops, he staggered his way over to where Simmons lay on the forest floor. Then, he slowly lowered himself to the ground on his belly next to the man, paws scratching at the dirt. He whined. </p>
<p>
  <em> Are you okay? </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>-----</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Simmons couldn't deny feeling a flicker of fear, but who wouldn't with a craze-eyed, blood-drenched werewolf approaching you? The flicker snuffed out as quickly as it appeared. All he could feel now was a complex mix of thankfulness, admiration, worry, gratitude, relief. He was okay. <em> They </em> were okay. Simmons was safe, and Chewy was safe. That was all that mattered.</p>
<p>He found enough strength to push himself upright and twist towards his side, towards Chewy. His hands carefully glided across the blood-stained coat, examining the extent of the damage taken. No gaping holes, but a lot of scratches and bruises. It sucked, but definitely nothing life-threatening. He'd probably heal up in the next day or two. Good.</p>
<p>Simmons exhaled deeply, slumping his shoulders. What a fucking day. Satisfied with the condition of the wolf, he wrapped his arms around Chewy's broad neck and shoulders, holding on firmly, yet gently.</p>
<p>"You are getting <em> so </em> many fucking pizzas later, buddy."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>=====</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Grif managed a nice, big, wolfy (and bloody) smile, his tail slowly wagging and thumping against the ground. He pressed the side of his head against Simmons. He enjoyed the feeling of Simmons’ arms wrapped firmly around him, he enjoyed the feeling of having Simmons safe and close. </p>
<p>And he enjoyed hearing about getting pizza. <em> So </em> many fucking pizzas. He let out a soft yip, absolutely looking forward to more pizza with Simmons. </p>
<p>Grif flopped onto his side, making sure not to disrupt being held by Simmons. This was another reason why he wasn’t sure if he wanted Simmons to know <em> he </em> was Chewy. Would this dynamic be the same? Would Simmons be okay with this? With the guy he was dating being a werewolf? It was... probably best not to let him now. Yeah. Same decision as before. </p>
<p>Whatever. He could still enjoy spending time with Simmons in both forms.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>-----</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Arms still wrapped around Chewy, Simmons started to scratch behind his ears with a warm smile. He'd never get over how soft they were, although... messier today, with how much blood was starting to soak his hands. And dress shirt. And... everything, really. They were a total mess. Hmmm.</p>
<p>"Hey, I know you're probably tired, but maybe we should clean up a little bit? You're gonna be even stinkier, otherwise. Think there's a spring close by, if you've been there before." Yeah, that's not weird. Taking a dog bath with a werewolf that also definitely had a human form and probably used it more than this one. Just... don't think about it too much, Dick.</p>
<p>"We can eat first, if that helps convince you?" Simmons finally (and a bit reluctantly) released his hold, stretching an arm to tap the pack that dropped after getting rammed by the warthog. They really needed a break after this.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>=====</p>
<p> </p>
<p>When Simmons scratched behind Grif’s ears, there was another thumping sound added to the thump of his tail. His leg started going up and down, his head tilted to the side to allow more scratching, and his eyes closed. Ahh, yeah, that’s the spot. </p>
<p>He almost didn’t hear what Simmons said next, so distracted by the good feeling of being scratched behind the ears. He opened his eyes.</p>
<p>At first he did not seem eager for a bath of any sort. He let out a little huff and a little grumble, shaking his head and ruffling his fur. But then, Simmons brought up food. He mulled it over for a few moments. </p>
<p>Eventually, he let out another huff, but an affirmative one, giving one nod of his massive head. He licked his lips again.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>-----</p>
<p> </p>
<p>It was a bit uncanny, watching Chewy go through the motions of a happy house pet after what had transpired. Simmons rolled his eyes, but not before offering a warm smile. He <em> really </em> did need a bath.</p>
<p>Simmons started his usual one-sided conversation with the wolf as he took out boxes and containers from the pack.</p>
<p>"Right, food first-- I'm already full, though. Try not to get <em> too </em> jealous, but... I went on a dinner date a little bit ago," he announced smugly. "And I was toootally smooth, like you could imagine."</p>
<p>... Okay, not even <em> he </em> could convince himself of that one. Simmons couldn't stop the short burst of laughter from escaping.</p>
<p>"I don't think I messed it up too much, though. We already made plans for tomorrow, so I'd call that a success. This pizza," he shook the container before opening it and setting it down in front of Chewy, "I think is my best attempt so far, so I'll try to replicate it when we cook tomorrow. It'd probably be better if I cooked for him, right? Man, I'd be so fucking embarrassed if I asked him to cook with me. Domestic bullshit... well, maybe if it keeps going well." Simmons stared off dreamily, too caught up in his smitten antics and gushing about Grif for longer than he'd like to realize.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>=====</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Grif adjusted his position again so that he could eat the food that Simmons was taking out. He sniffed at the air eagerly, catching the smell of the pizza first, gravitating towards his favorite. His tail was wagging very fast. </p>
<p>Then, Simmons started talking about the date they'd just gone on. Of course, Simmons did not know he was talking to Grif, and Grif found that highly amusing. He scoffed and snorted at the first bit.</p>
<p>
  <em> Smooth. </em>
</p>
<p>And then he stared up at Simmons while he laughed with big and wide puppy eyes. Not the begging sort, just.. y'know. He liked this guy. </p>
<p>And <em> then </em>, Simmons continued, calling the date a success, talking about their plans for tomorrow, cooking for him, domestic bullshit. Grif lowered his head to the container with the pizza inside, eating slower than usual. His tail had picked up speed again. </p>
<p>Simmons was <em> gushing </em>. And Simmons did want a future with Grif, if it kept going well. He had never been so glad to be a wolf rather than a human in that moment, so he could hide his embarrassing reactions and feelings.</p>
<p>...Well, mostly. Fuck you, tail. He was really happy, despite having just fought and killed a huge pig.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>-----</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Simmons' smile grew wider at Chewy's joyful tail wagging and thumping the ground.</p>
<p>"That good, huh?" Well, not like Chewy was picky, but he was eating it slower than usual, maybe savoring it. He used this as validation that it'd be good enough for Grif, too. Chewy was such a good listener. He couldn't ask for a better source to anonymously spill his guts to.</p>
<p>He glanced over at the still-warm massive carcass, glad he wasn't intent on eating with his wolf date. Ugh. Dead things always smelled so bad, and tasted worse. Not like he was gonna feed in front of Chewy, though.</p>
<p>Simmons groaned, cracking his neck as he rose from the ground. Man, that thing really did a number on them. A nighttime forest bath actually sounded more appealing than creepy, for once. Well, he definitely felt safe with a protective werewolf at his side. He waited for Chewy to finish up so they could get the pig stink off of them.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>=====</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Grif just made more grumbling-bubbling sounds into the pizza as a response. At least his tail wag could be blamed on the food, then. Thanks, pizza. Thanks, Simmons.</p>
<p>Wow, Simmons took the time to make pizza for him. And he was going to do it again.</p>
<p>It didn't take him long to finish eating, of course. After Simmons stopped gushing over Grif he was able to focus a little more on the food, so it was gone in seconds. He pulled his head away from the container then yawned big and loud. He groaned and whined next, realising it was time for a <em> bath </em>. He began making a sort of barking-howl noise in complaint, rolling onto his back stubbornly and looking up at Simmons.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>-----</p>
<p> </p>
<p><em> Wow </em>. He really was like a house pet. Where'd he learn to act like this from? It was hard to believe this wiggly, grumbly dog was a supernatural being. Y'know, if you overlooked the fact that he probably weighed 500 pounds and was drenched in blood.</p>
<p>"<em> Real </em> cute. Not gonna work, though. I'm cleaning off, too, so it's only fair you do." Simmons squatted down, playfully patting Chewy's chest a few times.</p>
<p>"I have a present for you afterwards, if you remind me. And it's not food, so don't get your hopes too high."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>=====</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> Cute. </em>
</p>
<p>Grif huffed grumpily, flopping onto his side and then onto his belly again, finally standing up. He gave Simmons a sour look, but then at the promise of a present it disappeared, his ears perking up. He finally made another affirmative sound, pausing to stretch for a second, and then he was ready to go, knocking his head against Simmons to let him know. Even if the present wasn't food, presents were always cool. Besides, he'd get food tomorrow. Homemade pizza.. made by Simmons... at Simmons' house...</p>
<p>He shook his big head again. </p>
<p>"Ruff," he said.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>-----</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Simmons felt his chest pool with warmth when the large, furry head bumped against him. As shitty of an experience as almost dying had been, it was nice, having something bring them closer together. At this rate, he'd have to make more pizza for Chewy than Grif.</p>
<p>Their destination thankfully wasn't far, a rocky oasis inside a small cavern. Kind of weird for a forest to have a natural hot spring and half a ton warthogs, but Simmons didn't bother questioning it with all the shit he's seen in the past year.</p>
<p>He sighed and began to unbutton his sweat and blood-stained shirt that stuck to torso, taking his time to not further any injuries. <em> Definitely not taking this one to the dry cleaners and get asked about being an axe murderer. </em> He shrugged the wet and clingy clothing off of his shoulders, wincing a bit.</p>
<p>Simmons grinned at Chewy and nodded towards the water, encouraging Chewy to go in whenever, because it's not like he could physically force him in.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>-----</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Grif trotted with Simmons as they made their way to the oasis, managing to keep up and stay by his side the entire time even though he was pretty worn out after running like hell and fighting to the death.</p>
<p>When they arrived, Grif paused only for a moment to peer around the cavern for.... pests. </p>
<p>
  <em> ...Bats. </em>
</p>
<p>He wasn't afraid of bats, shut up.</p>
<p>When he looked back down from the cavern's rocky roof, he almost choked on nothing seeing Simmons already shirtless. Wow, again, glad he was a wolf right now.</p>
<p>He made sure not to stare, because Simmons did not know he was Grif, and he was pretty sure he didn't want some random fucking guy ogling at him. When he got a nod from Simmons, he was finally reminded that he should hop in the water. </p>
<p>With a wolf grin, Grif backed up slowly, lowered his head to the ground, kept his rump in the air, then clumsily ran forward and jumped into a space in the water which he found to be closest to Simmons, causing a huge splash.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>-----</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"<em> Oof-- </em>" Caught completely offguard, the tidal wave knocked Simmons over instantly. His butt smacked the ground behind him, shortly followed by unceremoniously flailing into the water right next to Chewy. An exasperated shout filled the cave as he resurfaced, shaking his head.</p>
<p>"You <em> dick </em>-- ugh." He sent a pathetic smaller wave splashing at Chewy's wolfishly smug mug, grimacing at the movement. Too tired and too small compared to the wolf to really do anything in retaliation, Simmons sunk into the water submissively so he was submerged up to his chin. It was scolding at first, his own unnatural body temperature being ice cold. But eventually, he adjusted to it enough to let the heated water seep into his skin, and relaxed.</p>
<p>"C'mere. I can help get the gunk out of your fur," he offered, splashing weakly again.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>=====</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Grif let out a long string of snorting noises, which one could assume was supposed to be a laugh, floating in the water with the occasional help of doggy paddling. He didn't even flinch at the extremely pathetic wave splashed his way, and instead just lifted his front paws to splash Simmons back. At least that splash wasn't as big as a tidal wave.</p>
<p>He snorted again at Simmons sinking into the water, and then paddled over towards him to get the gunk out of his fur. </p>
<p>Once he reached Simmons, he floated there and let himself sink a little too, just his head sticking out of the water. It made him look ridiculous, the fur under the water being pushed around and appearing full, and the fur on his head looking soaked and extremely droopy. He gave Simmons another big wolf grin.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>-----</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Simmons grinned back, mainly at Chewy's brand new silly, buoyant and poofy wet dog form. He looked <em> pretty </em> ridiculous.</p>
<p>"Yeah, ridiculously cute--" he snapped his mouth shut after muttering that out loud. Oh well. Not like Chewy would really care. He seemed to like praise, if anything.</p>
<p>Simmons started running his fingers through the mottled coat, shaking out the mats and pig entrails (blegh) that muddied it. His arms tired out pretty quickly-- yeah, he just held off an animal five times his size for several minutes, but Chewy's fur was <em> really damn thick </em>. It would probably take a long time to dry, as well. But, it'll all be worth it, not having that hunt stink. The heat from the spring should be good to clean his fur sufficiently without needing some sort of soap, too. Not clean enough for himself, obviously, but. It'll do.</p>
<p>Once finished (after taking several rests for his tired arms), he wiped the grime off of his own torso, being careful not to press too hard against his chest. Whew. Doesn't seem like he actually broke anything, either. They were both in pretty good shape, given the situation. Simmons gave a relieved sigh, and another soft smile at Chewy.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>=====</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Wrooo," he huffed. Wow, Simmons really liked calling him cute. But it wasn't like Grif enjoyed it, no way, nuh-uh. Totally isn't feeling his tail slowly swish back and forth in the water, its wagging slowed by the pull.</p>
<p>Getting the gross, bloody remains out of his fur actually felt nice, most of the time, when it wasn't getting yanked out in some way. The scrubbing felt like a massage or getting scratched behind the ears. He was definitely enjoying it, wriggling around in the water every five seconds whenever the gunk was scratched out. A little embarrassing, but whatever. You expect a dog to not enjoy <em> basically </em> getting scratches all over?</p>
<p>After Simmons finished helping wash out his fur and went to focus on cleaning himself off, Grif slowly paddled and floated around in the water, enjoying the snug heat it developed and how nice it felt to just be in the water. He even just closed his eyes and leaned back in the water at one point, which was another ridiculous sight, this massive wolf just chilling there in the water looking like he was in the middle of taking a nap.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>-----</p>
<p> </p>
<p>If Chewy wasn't so hairy, you could probably mistake him for the most content, fat seal on earth, just lazing around in the water taking a nap. He almost looked dead with how relaxed he was. Just watching him, Simmons felt like he could fall asleep, too, and he might. They deserved this after their long day.</p>
<p>But, he had places to be, and a lunch date to prepare for. So after soaking and chilling out in silence for maayyyybe a bit longer than he planned, Simmons begrudgingly made his way out of the water. He threw the nasty clothes he had removed and stuffed it in his bag placed at the edge of the water, taking something out of an outer pocket. Hopefully, Chewy won't destroy the collar right away for being an unwanted gift. It was just supposed to be a joke, originally. But gripping it tighter, Simmons hoped he would appreciate the gesture at least a little bit.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>=====</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Grif peeled open one eye when his ears twitched at the sound of Simmons moving through the water and stepping out. He slowly rolled around to face him, doggy paddling to the edge of the water to see what Simmons was doing. He scrambled and scratched at the rocks to pull himself out of the water. Once out, he stood there and shook his entire body, the water on his fur flying everywhere in droplets. The end result was a shaggy wolf, the soggy, flattened fur showing off how chonky fat he was. </p>
<p>With that annoying dog thing out of the way, he looked at Simmons again and barked, head tilted.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>-----</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Simmons shielded himself when Grif shook water throughout the entire cave. Wow, he looked sillier and chonkier than serene seal Chewy. He strode up to the bushy wolf, presenting the... present.</p>
<p>"Here. It should fit above your elbow. Just... think of it like a friendship bracelet or something."</p>
<p>
  <em> Jeez, Dick, what do you think you guys are, junior high besties? </em>
</p>
<p>"Sorry, that sounded... yeah. You don't have to, if you don't want to." This somehow felt as embarrassing as when he asked Grif out the first time. The feeling was oddly familiar, anyway.</p>
<p>He held the orange leather collar in front of Chewy's snout to let him investigate it. Simmons ran his thumb along the tiny, ornate engravings as he did so. He used his hunting knife to carve them out before heading out to the forest for the night. It wasn't much, but it added a bit of personal flair, and it's one of the only crafty things he was capable of with his knife skills.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>=====</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Oh, right. The.. collar.</p>
<p>Grif grunted, sniffing at the collar as Simmons held it in front of his snout. It was.. was it different? Grif never inspected the collar, but he was pretty sure <em> something </em> was different. Something... Simmons.</p>
<p>Oh, well. At least Simmons wasn't trying to make him wear it on his neck, or make him wear it at all. It felt like a genuine gift. And, as childish as it sounded, a 'friendship bracelet' was usually a genuine gift. How weird would that be coming from the guy you were dating? Well, not Simmons' fault, he didn't know.</p>
<p>After a few seconds, the wolf let out a sigh and held one of his soggy arms up to allow Simmons to put it on, resting his huge paw on his arm for support, even though he could stand on three legs just fine. It really couldn't hurt to wear it on his <em> arm </em> for a bit. It also seemed like if Grif rejected the gift, Simmons might get all awkward and sad or whatever.</p>
<p>Hey, at least it was orange.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>-----</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Simmons beamed at the acceptance of his totally ironic gift. Okay, it wasn't actually ironic anymore, but that didn't really matter. The collar slipped onto the thick foreleg easy enough, fitting snugly in place above his elbow. Perfect.</p>
<p>Simmons used the arm not being pinned down by a massive paw to give a small hug, wrapping behind Chewy's head. "Thanks," he said quietly, and pulled back.</p>
<p>"Should probably head back now. You gonna be alright?" Simmons gave a small look of concern. He <em> should </em> be fine, but... yeah. He cared about this guy.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>=====</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Grif closed his eyes for the short hug, pressing his head close until Simmons pulled away. He nodded at Simmons, then shook his fur out for a second time. More water drops! He grinned and stuck his tongue out.</p>
<p>"Awroooh." he said, dropping his paw so that it wasn't resting on Simmons' arm anymore. </p>
<p>Somehow, he felt amazing. Guess the warthog was only a small part of the day, it barely even mattered to him anymore that he could have died earlier. But it <em> did </em> matter that Simmons could have. He might have a grudge against warthogs for a while. Dumb pigs.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>-----</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Simmons quickly got over the additional Chewy-shower because oh my God. Chewy just <em> blepped </em>. He wouldn't even call himself that much of a dog person, and it was so... actually, he can't really say that now. Was it Chewy or Grif that was potentially converting him to a dog lover? Wolf lover? Is it weird to call yourself a wolf-person? Wouldn't that just be a werewolf? Uh... anyway.</p>
<p>Giving a final pat and grin to the now clean, less stinky (except for that lovely wet-dog smell), waterlogged Chewy, Simmons gathered his bag and made his way home. A long day, for sure. But a good one. And tomorrow would be even better, he hoped.</p>
<p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Star Shrek is the Best Movie Ever. Of All Time.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>=====</p><p> </p><p>Grif's body ached slightly from the fight last night; he definitely did not get away with zero injuries, but at least the injuries weren't anything to be super concerned about, right?</p><p>There were a few visible and nasty looking red scratches running down his arms, a light bruise on his right cheek, and a lot more bruising and grazing on his chest. Only a few of them had ended up bleeding, though. They were fine now! Promise.</p><p>Anyway. He had plans to go to Simmons' for lunch. Simmons was going to make pizza. Grif had been sitting in his parked chevy in Simmons' street for the past five minutes, gripping the steering wheel so tight his knuckles hurt. No, he wasn't nervous. Not at all. He wasn't nervous, because he did <em> not </em> bother to find the only shirt that had no stains on it, totally not.</p><p>He did. It was a really boring orange t-shirt. Why did he only own orange shit-</p><p>Ugh, get out of the car already.</p><p>Grif swung open the door and stepped out, letting it shut behind him. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans and walked down the pathway towards Simmons' house.</p><p>He was fine. Completely fine. Still was not feeling nervous as he rounded and faced Simmons' house, still was not feeling nervous as he approached the front door, and was especially not feeling nervous when he raised his fist to knock.</p><p> </p><p>-----</p><p> </p><p>Fuck, he should've tried to sleep some more. It's not like Simmons <em> wanted </em> to wake up at 4 AM to go to the farmer's market the next town over to pick up the best ingredients possible, and then spend the entire morning making several iterations of his pizza recipe to have multiple options to choose from, and pretend like the best one he made was the only one he made and just hide the extra ones to give to Chewy because hey it was a pretty smart idea since he really wanted to spoil Chewy (wait didn't he say before he wasn't gonna do that-) and really, it was the most efficient and effective way to sway Grif with his seemingly fantastic cooking.</p><p>Haha, yeah, that'd be ridiculous.</p><p>Yeah, no, he wanted to impress Grif, sue him.</p><p>They planned to meet up at noon, and Simmons tried <em> oh so hard </em> not to neurotically check his phone every few seconds starting at 11:30 AM to peek on his doorstep security camera app. Because <em> that </em> didn't make his anxiety worse, not seeing Grif there, yet wanting to see Grif there, but worrying that Grif was also there.</p><p>Did he mention he was nervous? No? Okay. Because he totally wasn't. Man, he was tired. He hoped it didn't show on his pale, lack-of-sleep, defended-himself-from-a-giant-beast-last-night face.</p><p>Simmons stared at the Chosen Pizza™️ that finished cooking a few minutes ago, stowing the others in the fridge. His house was going to smell like a pizzeria for a day or two, but that's okay. Grif probably wouldn't mind it.</p><p>Oh fuck. Grif. That was a knock on the door. Grif is here. Fuck. No, he's fine. Simmons is fine.</p><p>He took a deep breath after rushing to the door, holding the handle for a few moments. His anxious smile swiftly swapped out with an ear-splitting and genuine one when he creaked it open to see Grif.</p><p>"... Hey."</p><p> </p><p>=====</p><p> </p><p>Grif's smile matched Simmons' when the door was pulled open, so wide that it made the bruise sting. He hardly noticed.</p><p>"Hey," he responded, so chill and casual. He also noticed the smell of pizza wafting into his face from inside the house. Oh, boy. Simmons had been making a lot of pizza.</p><p>"Nice place." It looked just as Grif had been expecting it to, rich. "Nice shirt, too," he said with a wink. "Can I come in? The pizza is calling me already. I kinda have a date with it, so..."</p><p>He pretended to peer over Simmons' shoulder by getting up on his tiptoes and looking around, as if for someone else, before grinning even wider and settling back down flat on his feet.</p><p>It almost sounded like Grif was half teasing and half complimenting Simmons, but Grif really did think he looked nice. He really wished he wasn't getting stuck staring so much, it was pretty obvious. Simmons' face was nice, Simmons' clothes were nice, <em> Simmons </em> was nice. Nice nice nice.</p><p> </p><p>-----</p><p> </p><p>Simmons' smile faltered for a moment, noticing the bruise on Grif's cheek. Oh, shit. Was he alright? He didn't wanna be insensitive by saying it, but it looked pretty bad. Well, not <em> that </em> bad, it kind of made him look rough and a bit badass, but- <em> are you seriously thinking Grif being injured is cool in any way? SMH my head, Dick. </em> He'd... ask him about it later. 'Hey, how'd you fuck up your face?' wasn't the best conversation starter for a date.</p><p>The compliments were nice. Oh God. The wink was nice. Too nice. That should be illegal. What the fuck. <em>Yes, you can come in,</em> <b><em>please</em></b>. Grif's sarcastic charm branded him like an iron out of the kiln, making him feel hot and flustered and stinging but in the best way possible. The most he could do was try to match it, as impossible as that seemed.</p><p>"Oh, sure, of course. I can third wheel and watch a show while you two have a nice time." Simmons rested his palm flat on the small of Grif's back, guiding him inside.</p><p>
  <em> Wow, a non-pizza-stained shirt. Really upping your game today. </em>
</p><p>As much as he joked about it internally, Grif did clean up nice. It's not like Grif was about to sport Simmons' custom-tailored Italian dress shirt, but honestly, all Grif needed to do was flash his dark eyes and broad, full, smirking face to send him reeling.</p><p> </p><p>=====</p><p> </p><p>"Sounds great," Grif snorted, walking inside as Simmons' hand guided him forward. Part of him hoped it wouldn't move away, but it would be kinda weird to spend their whole time together with Simmons' hand just glued to his back. Sigh.</p><p>Once inside, he paused for a second to look around and observe the richboy interior. He whistled, then looked over his shoulder at Simmons. He kept his arms close to his sides, trying to subtly hide his injuries. Last thing he needed was Simmons asking him about them, and having to come up with an explanation. Maybe he could just blame it on his... four dogs. He said four, right? He was lucky the bruise wasn't mentioned.</p><p>"Hey. We should watch a movie while we eat pizza. You got movies, right?" Speaking of pizza (again), he couldn't get over how great it smelled. It was the <em> only </em> thing he could smell. Lots of meat, lots of pizza. His strong sense of smell was both a curse and a blessing. Right now it was a blessing, but it was making him <em> extremely </em> hungry.</p><p> </p><p>-----</p><p> </p><p>Simmons scratched his neck when Grif whistled. He never wanted to come off as materialistic in any way, he just... had expendable income. And liked the minimalistic and modern aesthetic a lot. And... yeah, it kind of made him look like a pompous rich asshole. Fair enough. As long as Grif didn't think he was trying to win him over with cushy living. He was more focused on winning him over with his homemaking and cooking abilities.</p><p>Though, he did seem slightly uncomfortable, Grif's arms stiff at his sides. A movie was a good idea to loosen up.</p><p>"Yeah, everything I have saved digitally is all <em> nerd stuff</em>, but we can stream whatever, too." Simmons let his hand linger just a bit longer as it left his warmth, picking up a remote from his coffee table to toss at Grif.</p><p>"Pick something out while I grab the food. Highly suggest Star Shrek if you haven't seen it."</p><p> </p><p>=====</p><p> </p><p>Grif just managed to catch the remote, quickly reaching out to steal it from the air. He raised a brow at Simmons.</p><p>"Star Shrek? Sounds kinda lame." He let himself flop down on Simmons' couch anyway, searching for Star Shrek so that they could watch it. He flicked through some other options while looking for it- a few were tempting, but he did settle on the recommended movie since he hadn't seen it before. Why not? It was always fun to make fun of shitty movies, and this movie looked especially shitty.</p><p>Once Grif found it, he waited patiently for Simmons, one arm resting on the back of the couch.</p><p> </p><p>-----</p><p> </p><p>"Dude, you have no fucking idea." It was probably the lamest, shittiest movie he's ever seen, but those kinds of movies are the best for having good conversations over. No pressure to interrupt for good plot, and no falling into bad habits of pausing to go off about behind the scenes facts.</p><p>Simmons didn't notice he was humming as he sliced the pizza, figuring it would be best to bring the entire thing over with Grif's appetite. He knew this turned out great, and sharing it with Grif would make it taste that much better. When he returned to the couch, reached over the back of it, maaaybe purposefully leaning over Grif's arm, to place the pizza down on the table.</p><p>"Nice, can't wait to see how much you hate this movie."</p><p>Normally, Simmons would sit at the far end of the couch in a situation like this. But he felt pretty physically comfortable with Grif already for some reason. So a few inches at his side, leaning back against his arm, Simmons sat.</p><p> </p><p>=====</p><p> </p><p>Grif would've been alarmed by Simmons reaching over the back of the couch to place the pizza down if he hadn't heard him coming. Thanks, wolfy hearing. He licked his lips hungrily and leaned forward to grab a slice with the hand <em> not </em> resting on the back of the couch, and started eating.</p><p>"The greatness of shitty movies. Gotta love making fun of 'em." He grinned, leaning back again, close to Simmons. After stuffing the slice in his mouth he picked the remote up again and hit play to start said shitty movie.</p><p><em> Star Shrek. </em> What kind of weird-ass crossover was that supposed to be? He snorted again, this time to himself, as the movie started. Whatever. He'd take any reason to talk to Simmons, and this seemed like a great one. Absolutely nothing could go wrong. Nnnooope...</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> [A/N: Star Shrek is an ongoing inside joke, where in our times of RPing, Simmons constantly harassed Grif by speaking with a very awful "Shrek accent". Literally any time it's brought it up, Grif responds with preemptive fear (to explain the nuance of the last and following comments).] </em>
</p><p> </p><p>-----</p><p> </p><p>Simmons tried very, very hard throughout their banter not to do his well-practiced Scottistralian accent that Shrek Swampwalker used, because the last person he showed it to cringed into next week. Any time he was tempted to, he picked up another slice of pizza to nibble on, nodding and smiling at Grif while cursing his cursed brain.</p><p>He tried to oh-so-subtly shift his weight a few times, inching closer to Grif throughout the afternoon, but not fully committing to settling against him. He also tried to avoid looking at Grif so much (well, not really), but at least he had a good excuse in that Star Shrek's budget made it look as awful as you could imagine. Yeah, just ignoring shitty Star Shrek to talk with and admire Grif up close... <em> nice</em>.</p><p>A surge of confidence pushed Simmons into at <em> least </em> considering pulling Grif's arm over his own shoulder. He hoped slinking down into the couch more would help drop enough hints, but that didn't seem to be the case. When his eyes flickered to the arm in question, he noticed a recently-made-looking, <em> long </em> scratch mark starting at the elbow and going up his sleeve. The <em> fuck</em>, dog?</p><p>"<em>Dude</em>, are you okay? What happened?" He twisted in his seat in concern and gently grabbed Grif's arm.</p><p> </p><p>=====</p><p> </p><p>Throughout the movie, Grif was stuck in a cycle of actually watching it, making fun of it, bantering with Simmons, and trying not to giggle at his god awful accent. It was not good or funny. He was only laughing because it was bad. Obviously.</p><p>Because of all of this, he didn't eat the pizza as fast as he usually would. He actually managed to take at least a little time on each slice instead of wolfing it down in seconds like he usually did. </p><p>It also felt really, <em> really </em> natural to just be sitting close to Simmons, bickering and laughing at stupid shit. He noticed Simmons inching closer, and he dared to do the same at some point. They were <em> so </em> close, Grif wasn't sure why either of them didn't just go for it now. Well, actually, he knew why Simmons wasn't doing it. Fuckin' pussy.</p><p>Anyway, Simmons was talking now, and- wait, shit. Grabbing his arm. His arm that had a huge scratch along it- fuck.</p><p>"Uh. Oh, whoa..." he said with feigned surprise, tilting his head to look at it.</p><p>"Ha, when did that get there? I didn't even notice..."</p><p> </p><p>-----</p><p> </p><p>"What?! How could you not notice? Seriously, what happened?" Simmons instinctively grabbed at the sleeve to pull it up and see the extent of the cut, but he had the mind to spring his hand back before embarrassing himself by making Grif totally uncomfortable by borderline stripping him down.</p><p>It looked <em> way </em> too long to be a normal scratch. Did he get in an accident on his way home yesterday? That fake surprise bullshit didn't pass him. Was he toughing it out just to hang out with him when he needed some medical attention? He should- ugh, wait. Grif was a grown-ass adult. Worrying was fine, babying wasn't. If Grif was here, stubborn or not, that was his choice. But <em> still</em>.</p><p>Simmons exhaled, trying to chill out at least a little bit. He reached forward again, this time holding the side of Grif's face as he examined the bruise there. Maybe it was one of his dogs? He did say they were big, so an injury like this could be possible.</p><p>"Don't think I didn't notice this when you walked in, too. Did your dogs try to train you instead or what?"</p><p> </p><p>=====</p><p> </p><p>Grif winced a little, shifting to face Simmons properly. He didn’t say anything at first, too busy trying to think of a genuine excuse. He got distracted by that as well, though, when he saw the worried look that Simmons wore. He ended up just sitting there with a dumb expression, staring right at the other man. He didn’t even stop staring when Simmons grabbed the side of his face, his hands being so gentle, not wanting to cause more injury.</p><p>“Uh- yeah- exactly, was... roughhousing... earlier. They’re big. Dogs. ‘M fine, though.” he mumbled.</p><p>Grif could’ve gotten much worse injuries. And he gladly would have let it happen, if it meant Simmons got to live.</p><p><em> I risked my life for you. Getting impaled by one of those tusks wouldn’t have felt good. You almost got impaled. Are you okay? That’s more important. Surely you got a bit bruised as well, but you seem fine. </em> </p><p>Well. Good. That was good. No matter how weird it seemed.</p><p>He reached up slowly to encase Simmons’ hand with his own. Grif opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out. He closed it.</p><p> </p><p>-----</p><p> </p><p>Roughhousing, yeah. Grif seemed... hmm. It was hard to pin down. Simmons shouldn't be able to read Grif that well, considering he's known him for such a short amount of time. Yet, something was definitely upsetting him. It was a more complex emotion than that, though, the way he looked at him. Probably something he didn't wanna talk about? That was fine, no need to push him and cause discomfort.</p><p>Simmons should have been taken aback by the movement, startled and stammering, Grif's hand tenderly holding his own as they stared at each other in silence. Grif almost said something, but... couldn't, yeah. Not sure what to say, Simmons furrowed his brow and accompanied it with a soft smile. His position shifted yet again, this time quietly sinking against Grif. He felt warmer than normal, the side of his chest and stomach against Simmons' back. Finally, Simmons gently drew Grif's arm onto his chest, gripping his hand firmly.</p><p> </p><p>=====</p><p> </p><p>The tension melted off of Grif's shoulders within seconds. He wasn't able to turn his attention back to the movie right away, too busy watching and feeling Simmons settle against him, then allowing his arm to be tugged towards Simmons' chest. He finally turned his head back to the TV, slowly resting it on top of Simmons' head afterwards.</p><p>Well, he got out of that... easy. He could tell Simmons was still concerned, but he wasn't pressing. Grif was glad. He really didn't feel like making more half-assed lies about how his dogs scratched him up a bit, when Simmons probably didn't even believe it that much.</p><p>Whatever. Too busy enjoying watching Star Shrek with Simmons to care about it anymore.</p><p> </p><p>-----</p><p> </p><p>It was quiet. <em> Too quiet. </em></p><p>And dark. Oh, eyes were closed. Wait. Oh <em> fuck</em>, did he... yeah. Simmons fell asleep. Well, as much as a vampire could fall asleep, dreamily spacing out. On a date. <em> Nice job, Dick. </em> Wasting heaps of precious time where he could have been enjoying laying on Grif, awake, basking in his company, and hopefully not snoring on him. Grif was probably disappointed. Or... maybe not. Since Grif was snoring on him. They were cuddling. Wow, he felt a lot more awake now.</p><p>Grif's head was heavy on his, and he used this as an excuse not to move for the time being. Speaking of the time, the clock near the TV, which had been looping through Star Shreks incredible menu music, was telling him that they must have been sleeping for at least three hours. Shit. Simmons <em> really </em> should have caught up on rest instead of neurotically baking pizzas all morning. But he couldn't complain about recovering it with Grif at his side.</p><p>He shifted once more, just to rest his head more into Grif's nape.</p><p>
  <em> Five more minutes. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>=====</p><p> </p><p>After waking up and leaving Simmons' place only a little earlier, Grif had made his way home, dropped off his things again, and got ready to head into the forest. Just when he was going to head out, he paused and looked at the orange collar Simmons had bought. Should he...?</p><p>Wait, why the hell would he wear that thing? Come on, Grif.</p><p>...Well, it kind of made Simmons happy.</p><p>He rolled his eyes and snatched the leather dog collar up and balled it into his fist. At least he didn't have to wear it around his neck, not that it would fit anyway. Just like a damn bracelet, not embarrassing at all.</p><p>Grif shuffled out the door and made his way down the usual path he took to the forest. Like the previous evening, he took his time in order to enjoy his walk, arrived at the edge of the forest, slipped the collar over his arm (which would fit properly when he changed), then finally transformed. He shook his fur out, glanced briefly down at the orange collar above his elbow, and proceeded into the trees. </p><p>As he headed to the usual area that he and Simmons met up, he was definitely not thinking about Simmons and only thinking about the fact that it was likely he'd be getting even more pizza. He'd smelled a lot more in Simmons' house earlier, surely there was one saved for this evening.</p><p>Yep. All about the pizza. Toottalllyy not Simmons. Pizza was the reason his tail was wagging right now. Again, <em> not </em> Simmons.</p><p> </p><p>-----</p><p> </p><p>He still couldn't believe the date went so well, even if he rested his eyes through half of it. He couldn't wait to tell Chewy about how it- <em> God, was he really that excited about updating Chewy with relationship 'deets'? What are you, Dick, a middle-schooler with a crush. </em></p><p>... No, just an adult with one. <em> Sigh. </em></p><p>Shit, he should have saved some boxes from Sammie's to help lug all of eight pizzas into the forest. His backpack was about to burst at the seams, but he somehow managed to cram every bag full of slices in there. Maybe he could go to Sammie's with Grif again and bring a couple boxes back home. Yeah, just... for the boxes, right.</p><p>Simmons scrunched his nose as he walked the path to their usual meet-up spot. Ugh, rotting blood always smelled the worst. They should really do something about that pig carcass later. Not the most appetizing thing when you're going to have dinner with your hairy friend in the woods. Speaking of... there was Chewy, waiting with his tail thumping the ground, and- wearing his collar still. He beamed, happiness springing his step forward a bit faster than usual.</p><p> </p><p>=====</p><p> </p><p>Grif wasn't too bothered waiting by the strong stench of rotting warthog, even if it wasn't the best smell in the world. He sat and waited patiently until his ears pricked up at the sound of footsteps. Soon, Simmons appeared with a backpack full of what he assumed was pizza because of the smell. His tail picked up speed. </p><p>"Bwoof," he said, hopping a little on the spot, if you could even call it hopping. He just lifted his forelegs off the ground and let them drop back down.</p><p>Called it. More delicious homemade pizza, made and brought to him by Simmons. Simmons also looked extra happy when he saw him, beaming like the sun, which Grif assumed at least part of that was because he decided to wear the collar. Knew it'd make Simmons happy. Adorable.</p><p> </p><p>-----</p><p> </p><p>After unpacking the literal pounds of pizza from his bag and dumping most of it onto the ground, Simmons sat at Chewy's side. He looked him over as he ate, smile upturning a bit at the long gash on one of his forelegs. Chewy <em> saved his life</em>, and his reward was pizza. As much as the wolf liked it and probably thought it was good enough, Simmons would definitely have to think of something more meaningful to pay him back.</p><p>Less hesitantly, he lowered his hand to slowly stroke along Chewy's back, his other hand eating a slice.</p><p>"Ha, two pizza dates in one day. Might start getting sick of it, but... maybe not." Another pet and another bite of pizza. He should've brought napkins or something, pizza was so messy. <em> And this is why the fork and knife combo is better. </em></p><p> </p><p>=====</p><p> </p><p>As soon as most of it was dumped onto the ground Grif dove right into it, gobbling down slices in seconds. He only briefly paused his eating when he felt Simmons' hand on his back, but it didn't feel bad, it felt quite nice, so obviously he didn't acknowledge it. Well, actually. He leaned into it, shifting to sit slightly on his side, twisted around.</p><p>And then, as these meetups usually went, Simmons was talking about dates, unknowing that he was talking to Grif and not some random werewolf. </p><p>When Grif had gotten through most of what was dumped on the ground, he took a short break and sat up. Licking his chops free of pizza sauce and toppings, he looked at Simmons. Hmmm.</p><p>Sniffing would fill Simmons' ears as Grif suddenly shoved his head close, eyeing some sauce on his face<em>. </em> He leaned in close, almost pressed up against Simmons' side.</p><p>"Rfff," he snuffed.</p><p> </p><p>-----</p><p> </p><p>"... and we must have slept for like, I dunno, two or three hours? I hope he doesn't think I'm lazy or something. Not that I care that much!" Simmons kept rambling about the afternoon, shoving his face full of more food with every comment he made that embarrassed himself. Stupid messy pizza. After finishing the slice, he started rubbing his temple.</p><p>
  <em> Ugh, should've laid down a bit before coming here. Feels like I can hear my own rambling inside my head with how much I keep thinking about Grif and remembering his stupid comments it's like I can basically hear him talking about pizza man he has such a nice voice- </em>
</p><p>"<em>What the- </em> what are you-" Simmons braintrain full-stopped at the Chewy station, ears assaulted by heated sniffs.</p><p> </p><p>=====</p><p> </p><p>Grif half listened to the rambles before they stopped abruptly. He still had his nose close to Simmons' face, sniffing and sniffing, until he got a big slobbery lick to the face. It was not weird at all, totally not. Just a good loyal werewolf that Simmons didn't know the identity of being a napkin.</p><p>That's normal, right?</p><p>Well, it would be.. a little less weird if Simmons actually... knew... who... or would it be more weird...</p><p>Grif stopped licking the sauce from Simmons' face. He slowly went back to eating his own pizza, deciding it was best not to think about it much.</p><p> </p><p>-----</p><p> </p><p>Simmons squinted his eyes shut as he was assailed by werewolf licks, gripping at Chewy's mane in protest even though he knew it was futile to try and push him away. He couldn't stop a grin from forming since it was a funny mixture of gross, cute, and- he froze, remembering that. This was. Probably a bit weird. Chewy was a- no, no, mental throat clear- Chewy was just his good loyal werewolf that saved his life. Plus, he probably couldn't control his wolf impulses in this form. So it was perfectly normal. And he deserved all the pizza sauce in the world. Including the pizza sauce all over his face. Sure.</p><p>Simmons wiped the slobber off his face with a grin and a snort, "Wow, so bold of you, didn't realize my first kiss would be with a dog." He gave a hearty pat against Chewy's shoulder to indicate that it was indeed a joke, even though it... technically wasn't. Shut up.</p><p> </p><p>=====</p><p> </p><p>Grif let out a snort but did not lift his head up from the pizza. It was almost as if he was hiding his face in it, even though he couldn't really look embarrassed in any way with his wolf face. </p><p>It didn't take long to finish everything left of what had been dumped on the ground. He sat back up when the pizza was successfully devoured, then looked at Simmons again with a big wolf smile. </p><p>Simmons may think that pizza was not a good enough 'reward', but Grif certainly did, even though he didn't need or want anything for saving Simmons.</p><p>
  <em> I would literally die for you and more also your pizza is great please never stop making it-</em>
</p><p> </p><p>-----</p><p> </p><p>"Pfft, don't worry, with how much Grif seems to like pizza, I probably-"</p><p>Wait.</p><p>
  <b> <em>What the fuck?</em> </b>
</p><p>Simmons snapped his head to stare at Chewy, eyes as wide as pizza plates. Did... did he just imagine that? It sounded so <em> clear</em>, and <em> spoken</em>, and <em> very familiar</em>. Oh God. Wait. He knew werewolves had some weird telepathy, based one of the files he read out of boredom at work while scrubbing some data, but it was only supposed to be with other packs. So this shouldn't be possible.</p><p>But again, Simmons learned quickly to question everything he thought he knew about this kind of stuff, since... yeah.</p><p>"... Did you just say something?"</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. It's Lightish-Red!</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Wheeee, finally at the special cameo of Donut!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em> "... Did you just say something?" </em>
</p><p> </p><p>=====</p><p> </p><p>At first, Grif tilted his head in confusion when Simmons began to reply to his thought. Maybe he was just talking about the same thing... coincidentally- wait, no. Simmons was staring at him. He looked alarmed. Grif shifted awkwardly on the spot.</p><p>
  <em> ...Testing, testing... </em>
</p><p>Please, <em> please </em> no, don't say it- don't say Grif had... imprinted... and Simmons could... hear- oh God. He would never be able to think anything ever again. Wait, shit, what if he accidentally <em> thought </em> something that gave him away? Oh God.</p><p>He was begging internally that this was not happening right now. Simmons could <em> not </em> hear him, no way.</p><p> </p><p>-----</p><p> </p><p>Holy shit, Simmons did hear him. But he didn't <em> hear him </em> hear him. His mouth wasn't moving, and they stared head on, and he could <em> hear </em> Chewy worrying about something.</p><p>"I... What do you not want to happen? This? What the fuck is even happening? How are you-"</p><p>Simmons' chin dipped, leaning back in confusion and concern and anxiety and... well, thinking about it... was this a bad thing? If he could hear Chewy's thoughts, they could actually talk. That's good, right? Could Chewy hear <em> his </em> thoughts? That... well, he actually didn't care about that, surprisingly. It's not like he wasn't already openly communicating his... ugh... often embarrassing feelings with him, anyway.</p><p>So, yeah. This was good!</p><p> </p><p>=====</p><p> </p><p>This was terrible.</p><p>
  <em> Don't worry about it, don't even question it. Don't. </em>
</p><p>Grif stood up and paced around in front of Simmons, stopping every few seconds to nudge Simmons' bag with his nose.</p><p>
  <em> Hey, anymore pizza? So we don't have to talk about this? Haha. I'm hungry. Hey, what was that? </em>
</p><p>He pretended to look suddenly in a random direction, then sat down again, shifting his weight from paw to paw. He almost slipped up literally just before with his worrying. Simmons could hear his damn thoughts- wait, shut up. No more thinking.</p><p> </p><p>-----</p><p> </p><p>Chewy either had some sort of attention span issues or was clearly trying to avoid this. Probably the latter. But, this was... really fucking cool. Dude, <em> telepathy </em> - it's just like he was in a sci-fi or supernatural movie! Wait... Driven by intrigue rather than respecting Chewy's obvious desire to discontinue the conversation (<em>oh my God they were having a conversation this was so cool-</em>), Simmons asked... a couple of questions.</p><p>"How does this work? How'd this even happen? Can you speak to anyone like this? I thought werewolves could only talk to other werewolves! Are you, like, purposefully speaking to me, or can I hear <em> everything </em> you say? Oh man, that's gotta be embarrassing if that's the case, is there some way that I can 'turn it off'? I don't want you to worry about it-"</p><p>Yeah, <em> toootally </em> not excited about this.</p><p> </p><p>=====</p><p> </p><p>Grif frowned at Simmons, either waiting for him to be finished or waiting for the moment to cut him off. He let out a giant sigh and threw his huge head back.</p><p>
  <em> No, I can't. Yes, werewolves can talk to other werewolves like this. I'm pretty sure I should be able to hide at least some thoughts from you, I better fucking be able to, and no, you can't turn it off, its not in your control. </em>
</p><p>As he finished... thinking, Grif slowly lowered his head to continue fixing Simmons with an unimpressed stare. This... was going to be a trip. He had to figure out how to shield Simmons from some of his thoughts. It wasn't the same as listening to a pack, so surely he could block some things.</p><p> </p><p>-----</p><p> </p><p>Simmons tried to collect himself as Chewy answered all of his questions, but the first response stuck out to him the most. He couldn't talk to <em> anyone </em> like this. And he didn't explain how it happened. Did Chewy not know it himself? Oh fuck. Oh no. Was this... a vampire thing? Did something weird happen when Chewy got his blood on him the other day and it formed some weird bloodlink? Oh shit. Wait, no, the way Chewy was talking about it... he did seem to know. Wait, did that mean he also knew he was a- Right. <em> Calm your mind down and stop being overly excited, you're probably bugging the shit out of him. </em></p><p>Still, one thought bubbled to the surface with this discovery now that they could have a sort of proper conversation. As proper as it could get in wolf form, anyway.</p><p>"Um. Sorry? No, uh. Thanks. For saving me. I..." Yeahhhh, didn't quite plan on what to say beyond that. Simmons cleared his throat, and smiled. "What's your favorite kind of pizza?"</p><p> </p><p>=====</p><p> </p><p>Grif waited again for Simmons to gather himself and talk, the unimpressed look on his face slowly fading away to be replaced with his usual neutral wolf face. He slid onto his side so that he was laying down.</p><p>
  <em> ... Meatlovers. But I'll eat pretty much any pizza. As long as it's not some freak of nature pizza.... never give me vegan pizza. I might bite your arm off, not kidding. </em>
</p><p>He narrowed his eyes as if giving a genuine threat or warning. Maybe he was. Watch out, Simmons.</p><p>Hey, though, at least it would be easier to let Simmons know if he ever wanted anything like this, or just had to let him know something.</p><p> </p><p>-----</p><p> </p><p>Simmons gave an unimpressed stare at the threatening squint, huffing in amusement.</p><p>"I don't doubt you can, but you were <em> basically </em> just nuzzling into me while I <em> pet you </em> . Can't really do that more if I don't have any arms, right?" He lifted his hand with the intent to pat him just for show, but... Chewy <em> could </em> actually bite his arm off. Not the best idea to push it too far, perhaps, so he lowered it again.</p><p>"But alright. Meatlovers. Same as Grif I think, means I have to buy less ingredients with all the pizzas I'm apparently going to be making," Simmons nodded with a determined grin.</p><p> </p><p>=====</p><p> </p><p>Grif rolled his eyes, sinking down even further so that his head laid on the ground as well.</p><p>
  <em> Perfect. Wow, maybe I really should be your dog, you could make both of us pizza at the same time. How great would that be?  </em>
</p><p>He droned on in his head, every word dripping sarcasm.</p><p>Wait- fuck- he wasn't supposed to know about that alibi-</p><p> </p><p>-----</p><p> </p><p>Simmons laughed in disbelief, sinking back onto his elbows to lay next to Chewy.</p><p>"What? You really wanna be my pet? Didn't realize you were so domesticated, dude. But I mean... You basically already are at this point." He flopped his arm to the side enough to reach the collar, tapping it. He didn't pull his hand back, though, choosing to rest the back of it on that big, fuzzy forearm.</p><p> </p><p>=====</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Does sarcasm still transfer through thoughts? You know I was being sarcastic, right? </em>
</p><p>Grif huffed, glancing down briefly at the collar when Simmons tapped it. </p><p>
  <em> Shut up, Simmons, only wore it to make y- ugh- shut up, stupid brain- </em>
</p><p>He threw his head back again, staring into the sideways trees. He couldn't look at Simmons right now, not with his dumb stupid cute face, laughing like that and being so oblivious and dumb and cute-</p><p>
  <em> No, I don't want to be your pet. I think you want me to be your pet, though. Real nice collar, nerd. You're lucky orange is a good color. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>-----</p><p> </p><p>"Uh, yeah! Pfft, I got that. Obviously, sarcasm doesn't really transfer through speech for you." Hopefully Chewy wasn't great at picking up on his bullshit. Haha...</p><p>Simmons tilted his head, observing the obviously defensive stance and sarcastic comments coming from the wolf. <em> He had such a cute pet. </em></p><p>"Hey, I spent a decent amount of time customizing it with my own two hands, asshole. And you're the one still wearing it."</p><p> </p><p>=====</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Sure it doesn't, Simmons. </em>
</p><p>Grif eventually looked back to Simmons after a few moments, his head so big he had to lean back slightly as to not bump into him.</p><p>He scoffed. </p><p>
  <em> Only because you'd totally be all mopey if I tore it to shreds. And I knew you were bringing me pizza. You bring me pizza, I won't tear it apart. </em>
</p><p>That was... only partly true reasoning as to why he wore the collar. He'd put it on because he knew it'd make Simmons happy, nothing else. But he couldn't tell him that.</p><p> </p><p>-----</p><p> </p><p>"Wow, every time you say my name, it's filled with <em> such </em> devotion... Hey, wait. I didn't..." Simmons trailed off, realizing that... he didn't think his name had come up in their previously one-sided conversations before, because it's not like Simmons talked in third person. No sir, Simmons would never be caught doing that.</p><p>... He didn't think on it too much, since he may have actually done that.</p><p>"Eating only pizza can't be too healthy for you, man. I can make you something else, if you want." He was only offering because... it was true! Chewy should get actual nutrition. He was simply being a responsible pet owner. Oh yeah, and the dude saved his fucking life so it's the least he could do.</p><p> </p><p>=====</p><p> </p><p>Grif froze for a second, panicking. </p><p>Shit. Did Simmons not say his name to 'Chewy'? Fuck, of course he didn't. Shit. Why would he introduce himself to a wolf who couldn't talk to him until literally one hour ago (God he hoped he never had to explain why, how embarrassing). Whatever- Simmons didn't continue to be suspicious. Crisis avoided.</p><p>
  <em> Hey, it's the only thing you've been giving me. I eat heaps of other stuff. Like Oreos, and literally everything unless it's a disgrace to food. </em>
</p><p>He did enjoy pizza the most, though, especially either Sammie's or when Simmons made it. Sammie's tasted amazing, but Simmons' felt special. It was nice.</p><p> </p><p>-----</p><p> </p><p>Simmons adjusted his position to sit up, arms draped around one of his lanky legs and leaning towards Chewy.</p><p>"Yeah, which is why I'm asking if you want something else. Like. I dunno. A treat, from me to you. Not an actual dog treat, though. Unless you want those again." Simmons smugly reached into his bag, pulling out a sleeve of Oreos he happened to cram at the bottom that apparently went unnoticed by Chewy's sniffer.</p><p> </p><p>=====</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Yeah, I'll take something else- </em>
</p><p>Grif suddenly flailed at the sounds of the crumpled packaging and the sight of the Oreos, quickly sitting up. His nose went crazy sniffing at them, eager for some of the delicious cookies. </p><p><em> What the fuck? You were hiding them from me? </em> he whined.</p><p> </p><p>-----</p><p> </p><p>"Jeez, calm down. It's called <em> dessert</em>. There's an order to things." Simmons said this snootily and sparkly as if he didn't eat an entire package of Oreos at 8am for breakfast after an overnight on-call shift. He opened and held out the sleeve for Chewy to dive into.</p><p>"Guessing Oreos are like the only 'freak of nature vegan' thing you'd enjoy," he laughed.</p><p> </p><p>=====</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Shut up, Simmons. I'm busy. </em>
</p><p>Grif stuffed his snout into the sleeve to start messily eating the Oreos, miraculously not knocking any out onto the ground. He'd still eat them if they did fall, anyway. And of course, it did not take him long to finish. They were extremely tiny snacks for him in this form. When they were all gone, he flopped back onto the ground, satisfied.</p><p> </p><p>-----</p><p> </p><p>Simmons sat watching the Oreos get inhaled, mind buzzing with the surreal fact that he was having a half-telepathic conversation with a wolf. Continuing what was now their routine, he gathered up all of the empty packaging and stuffed it in his bag, ready to head home.</p><p>"Hey, uh. I probably won't be here tomorrow, just so you know," Simmons started, a smile already curling his lips.</p><p>"I know it might be a surprise, but going to see Grif again. Don't worry, I won't replace you," he finished with a pat on the head.</p><p> </p><p>=====</p><p> </p><p>Grif looked at Simmons, scoffing and rolling his eyes.</p><p>
  <em> Wow, I'm so worried. </em>
</p><p>He let out a huge yawn, easily looking unconcerned. He couldn't be replaced by himself, and he couldn't miss Simmons not being here if he was going to go see him again. Man, Grif had it so easy.</p><p>
  <em> Bye, nerd. I'm sticking around for a bit. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>-----</p><p> </p><p>When Simmons suggested going to the Donut Hole the day before, it was mainly due to the fact that he really couldn't think of anywhere else to go that wasn't Sammie's again. Although, it was doubtful Grif would complain about going there for every one of their dates, anyway.</p><p><em> 'Every one of their dates' </em>... Woops, smiling too much again. Not that it was a problem, since it looked to be contagious. Grif sitting in the passenger seat sharing the same content look... yep, not a bad thing at all. Simmons flicked his eyes back to the road after giving one last smitten side-glance.</p><p>"Sorry in advance if the bar owner's behind the counter today. Everyone there's a little eccentric, but he's... something else?" <em> What an understatement. </em></p><p>Still. Taking your date to your usual feeding grounds? He hoped no one recognized him. And that Donut wouldn't be fucking weird. High hopes.</p><p> </p><p>=====</p><p> </p><p>Sitting passenger-side in Simmons' Tesla again, Grif was trying to force himself to not look too stupid. Stupid being staring dumbly at Simmons the whole time. He had his forearm resting on the side of the door next to the window, his eyes trained forward and just barely watching the outside world pass by as he listened and replied (<em> very </em> casually, as always).</p><p>Grif had heard of the Donut Hole before, but he'd never been. And apparently that was a good thing, because this bar owner was... 'something else'. Guess he'd end up seeing how that goes. Whatever, it'll be fine.</p><p>"Something else. Got it," he snorted. </p><p>No 'something else' bar owner could ruin his date with Simmons anyway. An angry warthog didn't even ruin it a few days ago, they still had a great time. <em> Yeah, it'll be fine, </em>Grif thought.</p><p> </p><p>-----</p><p> </p><p>"Yeah, it'll be fine," Simmons repeated with a smirk, eyes still on the road. Grif didn't seem to be the type to be put off by much, even if Donut was... well, he'd find out soon enough. As long as there wasn't a repeat situation of Donut trying to take Grif's shirt off upon first meeting. Seriously, Donut's 'Twink or Twunk' game could easily be done without taking off any- <em> wait, it shouldn't be done at all, because it's fucking weird. </em></p><p>Simmons groaned at seeing the 'lightish red' VW Beetle when pulling into the lot outside the bar. Yup, he was working tonight. Ah, well. Grif probably would have met him eventually.</p><p>He patted Grif's lap, leaving his hand to rest on his thigh.</p><p>"You ready?"</p><p> </p><p>=====</p><p> </p><p>Grif glanced down at Simmons' hand, warmth spreading through his chest. He grabbed the slender hand, raising an eyebrow at Simmons. </p><p>"Yup, doesn't really take me much preparation to be ready to go to a bar... so I'm sure I'll be fine," he grinned, scoffing at the same time. "Even if this 'something else' bar owner is working tonight. Let's go in already."</p><p>He let go of Simmons' hand, unbuckled, then hopped out of the car. He shut it behind him and took a brief moment to look over the bar's entrance.</p><p>
  <em> Donut Hole. Really? What a dumb name. </em>
</p><p>Shoving his hands in his pockets, Grif waited for Simmons to make his way around to him from the other side of the car before they headed inside.</p><p> </p><p>*****</p><p> </p><p>Donut was, as expected, sitting behind the bar. Wearing his lightish-red polo shirt and with his blonde hair slicked back, he looked like your stereotypical twink at a gay bar. Which, let's be honest- he was. He was half-flirting with a strapping young man, who, although was attractive, was VERY boring. He only talked about... doctor stuff. Booooring! But then, at the sight of that familiar red hair walking through the door, he quickly made an excuse to serve his favorite twunk!</p><p>Not that Simmons was his type- he was a bit too nervous, and Donut had always preferred it... ruff. (Haha, werewolf pun!)</p><p>That, and vampires smelled soooo much like death. Really killed the mood! Blegh.</p><p>"Hiya," Donut grinned as Simmons sat down, "What'll it be, Dickie?" He was faintly aware of the thicc handsome man tailing him, but he figured he'd play his mandated "Twink or Twunk" game after he spoke to Dickie for a bit.</p><p> </p><p>-----</p><p> </p><p>"I told you to stop calling me that," Simmons huffed at the unwanted nickname, giving Grif a sheepish glance as he sat beside him. He rolled his eyes at Donut before ordering his standard 'I'm not really looking to get hammered but I kind of need it to deal with the social anxiety of being on a date around a bunch of guys whose necks I sucked the other month' cocktail.</p><p>"Mean Gene, same way as usual." It was a stupid name for a drink and matched how stupidly weak it was. But it was the kind of bitter that Simmons liked. He tilted his head towards Grif as an introduction.</p><p>"This is Grif. Donut owns the place, like I said. And he's going to go easy on you and not do anything weird," he said pointedly at Donut, grimacing.</p><p> </p><p>=====</p><p> </p><p>Grif sat down next to Simmons, his eyebrow raised again at both him and Donut. Sooo, this guy had a reputation for being weird. Or... doing weird stuff? And Grif guessed he named his bar the 'Donut Hole' because of his name. Joy.</p><p>"'Sup," he said with a short nod, then took a few seconds to observe the bar. Definitely not his typical kind of hangout, buzzing with energy and dudes flirting at nearly every booth and a <em> lot </em> of decorative, glittering sequins- but Grif couldn't help feel that this was probably better than bringing Simmons to his usual dive. If Simmons was worried about Donut, he couldn't imagine how he'd deal with <em> Sarge </em>.</p><p>...Yep, enough of that. He turned back to the other two. </p><p>"Uh, interesting place." he mumbled.</p><p>He hadn't even spoken to this Donut guy, or known him for more than a couple minutes, but he could already tell he was a flamboyant character.  Especially with all of this lightish-red pink. Was he going to be here during their whole date?</p><p> </p><p>*****</p><p> </p><p>Donut scoffed at Simmons over the name, but turned to make him the drink.</p><p>"Oh, shush! I always go easy on first-timers. If I'm a pain in the rear, I'm not doing it right!" he giggled, winking at Grif. Plopping the glass down in front of the ginger, Donut leaned forward to get a look at Grif.</p><p>Hm. Darker skin, dark eyes, dark hair, lots of dark going on here... Maybe a bit messy, but he could see the appeal! Still not <em> quite </em> his type... Cute, though.</p><p>Oh, and <em> obviously </em> a werewolf. Donut could smell it on him, plain as day. An untrained nose might smell dogs, but Donut's been in this line of work for a long time. If you can smell the difference between a twink and a bear, you can smell the difference between a dog and a wolf!</p><p>"Ooh, good choice Simmons!" Donut praised. "Short, dark, and handsome is a classic! Tall is overrated anyway! Besides, he's got the girth to make up for it! <em> Awooooooga</em>, haha! Get it?" Donut howled and popped open a bottle, preparing to make today's special.</p><p>"Grif, yeah? If you take my initiation test, this drink's on the hooouse~!"</p><p> </p><p>=====</p><p> </p><p>Grif leaned back as Donut leaned forward, not sure if he was about to be closely observed or interrogated. Though, when Donut leaned in close, he got a sniff of a very familiar smell.</p><p><em> Oh, no fucking way. </em> He narrowed his eyes at Donut. Either this guy smelled extremely strong of wolf, or he was a werewolf. Grif was willing to bet on the latter, especially when- oh, wow, was that meant to be some kind of pun he was supposed to get? <em> Awooo-ga, seriously? </em></p><p>"What- hey, I'm average height, dude. Uh. Initiation test?" He frowned. <em> Sounded sus. </em></p><p>"Uh, sure, I guess. Why not? If I get a free drink out of it." He glanced at Simmons, just sort of nodding because he didn't know what else to say.</p><p>Simmons didn't warn him about this initiation, so surely it couldn't be that bad.</p><p> </p><p>-----</p><p> </p><p>Holy shit, it's been a bit since he's been here while Donut's on shift, he almost forgot how awful all of the innuendos were. Normally, he'd be busy blowing off some steam with another patron. Like, having a conversation, not. God damnit.</p><p>"Jesus, Donut- I..." Simmons silenced himself with an annoyed sigh, turning to Grif.</p><p>"He's literally always like this, and this is him being on good behavior... I think? Just... yeah." Simmons didn't really have an excuse, or any advice to give to Grif. He could have told him not to do the 'Twink or Twunk' routine, because Grif was clearly more of a 'bunk' or at least something outside of the twink spectrum, but- uh, anyway.</p><p>Simmons decided not to warn Grif about the game, definitely for no reason in particular, instead eyeing the two behind a sip of his maroon-colored drink.</p><p> </p><p>*****</p><p> </p><p>Donut smirked. "Simple game! You just gotta pass the Twink or Twunk test!" He lifted an extremely decorated lightish red cardboard sign that read <em> TWINK? OR? TWUNK? </em> in glitter.</p><p>"Take off your shirt, and let me be the judge! Are you a twink? A twunk? A bear?" He shrugged.</p><p>"Oh, and if you do a fancy little spin, I'll give you a free massage! And don't be shy, I'm sure you can tell I'm more bark than bite- I'll leave the latter to Dickie this time."</p><p>Did he wink at Simmons when he said that? Yes. Yes he did.</p><p>Oh, to be a young vampire in love with a werewolf. Romeo and Juliet! Without the murder! Unless they liked it like that. Bit of an odd roleplay, but Donut didn't mind. He'd had his fair share of oddities, back when he met that cute guy who was really into electric eels. Fun night!</p><p> </p><p>-----</p><p> </p><p>Simmons coughed into his drink, nearly choking at Donut's remark. The bar owner knew about Simmons' <em> condition </em> after an incident with one of his earlier, uh, meals there, and was apparently open-minded enough to allow it and not try to ward him away with garlic and crosses or whatever. But really, he believed Donut liked to keep him around for personal amusement, being an easy target for terrible puns considering the implications of being a vampire. He really didn't need or want to spell that out, so suck it.</p><p>...</p><p>Barely recovering, Simmons ignored the wink to raise an eyebrow at Grif. He was curious if he'd actually go through with it. Maybe he wasn't embarrassed about taking off his shirt in front of a bunch of thirsty young barhoppers? Probably not, for a free drink. What would Grif do for free food though...? Best not to think about that...</p><p>And. It's not like he was hoping Grif would agree. Uh.</p><p>"Drinks <em> are </em>expensive here," he mumbled.</p><p>...</p><p> </p><p>=====</p><p> </p><p>Grif's jaw dropped. He did not just fucking- his lips pursed as he tried to ignore his face heating up slightly. He also did not look in Simmons' direction. Yeah, Donut was... definitely a werewolf. One that apparently loved making werewolf innuendos. Great.</p><p>Anyway. Donut was telling him to take off his shirt. So he could judge him and determine what he was. Also in front of Simmons and the other people in the bar. But most importantly, Simmons.</p><p>"Take off my shirt. Really? I need to take off my shirt for you to tell?" he grimaced. But Simmons had a good point. He wouldn't need to take it off for long anyway, right? And he'd get a whole free drink out of it, and Simmons- ... Okay, don't think about Simmons. Dooo not think about how he'd probably be looking- okay, definitely looking.</p><p>Ugh... whatever. There were worse things to do for a free drink.</p><p>Rolling his eyes, Grif tugged at the hem of his shirt and huffed. "Fine. Better be a good damn drink. And I'm not doing a fucking spin." And then it was off.</p><p> </p><p>*****</p><p> </p><p>Donut let out a literal squeak. "OOH!" Resisting the urge to touch, apparently he was too handsy according to some people, Donut looked him over. "I like it! He's a keeper, Dickie!" </p><p>Pressing a finger to his lips, he tapped them lightly, thinking. "You're kind of a chubby hunk, yeah? Somewhere between hunk and bear... There's no twink here, that's for sure." Satisfied, Donut slid him the drink.</p><p>"We call this one the 'Dirty Little Virgin'.  Pardon my French, but that's the name of the game!"  The drink was both half a nod to Simmons'... <em> condition </em>, and also literally just happened to be today's special. Convenient timing. Well, mostly convenient timing. Some cute bastard was waving him down across the bar, that was definitely inconvenient timing.</p><p>"Aw, gotta run, boys! I'll leave you to it. Hope by the end of tonight, you're both howling with pleasure!" But before he left, he leaned into Grif real close, and gently booped him on the nose.</p><p>"Oh, and honey, we're werewolves. Not swearwolves. This bar has standards." And with that, he ran off. Did he just call out Grif for something he wouldn't with other patrons? Yes. Was it mostly to get one last pun in? Yes, yes it was.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>BIG THANK YOU TO PATHLESS for making awesome fanart!!! It's in our album at the end of the fic notes and also linked below! thank you ;w; &lt;333<br/><a href="https://imgur.com/fgbYPfN">https://imgur.com/fgbYPfN</a><br/><a href="https://imgur.com/vHO7K5L">https://imgur.com/vHO7K5L</a></p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p><a href="https://imgur.com/a/zDhCj0r">Here's an album of art that various folks drew for the RP!</a> (Content warning for blood and angry werewolves.) Thanks for following and reading along!!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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